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My  Lady  Clancarty 


Mary  Imlay  'Taylor  s  Novels 

ON  THE  RED  STAIRCASE. 

AN  IMPERIAL  LOVER. 

A  YANKEE  VOLUNTEER. 

THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  WIZARD. 

THE  CARDINAL'S  MUSKETEER. 

THE  COBBLER  OF  NIMES. 

ANNE  SCARLETT. 

LITTLE  MISTRESS  GOOD  HOPE  AND  OTHER 

FAIRY  STORIES. 

THE  REBELLION  OF  THE  PRINCESS. 
My  LADY  CLANCARTY. 


My  Lady  Clancarty 


BEING  THE 

TRUE  STORY  OF  THE  EARL  OF  CLANCARTY 
AND  LADY  ELIZABETH  SPENCER 

BY 

MARY   IMLAY   TAYLOR 

Author  of  "  On  the  Red  Staircase,"  "The  Cobbler  of  Nimei," 
"The  Rebellion  of  the  Princess,"  etc. 


ILLUSTRATED    BY 

ALICE   BARBER   STEPHENS 


BOSTON 
LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY 


Copyright,  7905, 
BY  LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY. 


All  rightt  reserved 


ftrfntn* 
8.  J.  PAKXBILL  <fc  Co.,  BOSTON,  TT.  S.  A. 


TO    MY   MOST   CONSTANT    READER, 

MY   MOTHER 


2229140 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTM  PACK 

I.  "ROSEEN    DHU  " I 

II.  BROTHER  AND  SISTER 1 1 

III.  LADY  BETTY  AND  HER  FATHER  ....  18 

IV.  IN  THE  WOODS  OF  ALTHORPE    ....  27 
V.  LADY  SUNDERLAND 42 

VI.  LADY  BETTY'S  TOILET 52 

VII.  AT  THE  RACES 61 

VIII.  LADY  BETTY  AND  AN  IRISH  JACOBITE   .  72 

IX.  THE  WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN  ....  8 1 

X.  AN  IRISH   DEFIANCE 89 

XI.  A   NIGHT  OF  PORTENTS   ......  104 

XII.  MASTER  AND  MAN lio 

XIII.  LADY  BETTY  TAKES  THE  FIELD  .      .      .      .  120 

XIV.  THE  INN  GARDEN 129 

XV.  MY  LADY  SUNDERLAND  TAKES  TEA      .      .  139 

XVI.  MY  LORD  CLANCARTY 147 

XVII.  AT  THE  TOY-SHOP 157 

XVIII.  THE  DUEL 165 

XIX.  MY  LORD  SAVILE  REAPS  HIS  REWARD  .     .  170 

XX.  LADY  BETTY'S  SEARCH 180 

XXI.  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW  .     .     .     .  186 
vji 


Contents 

CHAFTM  PACK 

XXII.  "UNTIL  DEATH  us  DO  PART"    .     .     .  196 

XXIII.  MY  LORD  SPENCER 211 

XXIV.  MELISSA 221 

XXV.  MR.   SECRETARY  VERNON 229 

XXVI.  THE  ARREST 235 

XXVII.  THE  TRAITOR'S  GATE 245 

XXVIII.  ALICE  AND  DENIS 256 

XXIX.  FATHER  AND  DAUGHTER 260 

XXX.  MY  LORD  OF  DEVONSHIRE       ....  268 

XXXI.  LADY  RUSSELL 276 

XXXII.  THE  KING 284 

XXXIII.  DONOUGH  ! 293 


vtfi 


MY  LADY  CLANCARrY 

Being  the  True  Story  of  the  Earl  ofClancarty 
and  Lady  Elizabeth  Spencer 

CHAPTER   I 

"  ROSEEN    DHU  " 

LADY  BETTY  shaded  her  eyes  with 
her  hand  and  looked  out  on  the  rose 
garden  of  Althorpe. 

At  her  feet  the  lawn  was  close  clipped  and 
green ;  beyond  was  a  garland  of  many  colors, 
roses  by  hundreds  and  tens  of  hundreds,  the 
warmth  and  glow  of  the  sun  upon  them ; 
behind  them,  the  long  avenue  of  limes  and 
beeches,  and  between  the  trees  vistas  of  level 
land  with  the  deer  moving  to  and  fro. 

The  butterflies  —  a  little  host  of  them  — 
whirled  under  the  window,  and  her  ladyship 
smiled. 

"  Come,  Alice,"  she  said,  "  't  is  too  fair  a 
day  to  linger  indoors.  Bring  your  lute,  girl, 
and  we'll  sing  one  of  those  dear  Irish  ballads 
where  none  may  hear  it,  to  carp  and  scold, — 


My  Lady  C  lane  arty 

none,  indeed,  but  the  rooks  and  butterflies,  or 
perchance  the  roses.  What  sayst  thou,  Alice, 
may  not  a  rose  hear  sweet  sounds  when  it  ex- 
hales such  sweet  perfume  ?  " 

"  I  know  not,  madam,"  replied  her  hand- 
maid soberly,  as  she  laid  aside  her  needlework 
and  reached  for  her  lute ;  "  but  sometimes, 
truly,  I  think  't  would  be  well  if  ears  were 
fewer  in  this  world." 

"  Ay,  or  tongues  more  gentle,"  assented 
Lady  Betty  laughing,  as  she  stepped  out  of 
the  window  to  the  lawn,  followed  by  her 
attendant. 

Both  were  young  girls,  but  youth  and  the 
rosy  comeliness  of  youth  sat  more  lightly  on 
the  handmaid  Alice,  whose  simple  face  and 
figure  suggested  nothing  more  subtle  than  the 
virtue  and  homely  wisdom  of  a  country  girl. 
It  was  quite  different  with  Lady  Betty  Clan- 
carty,  the  daughter  of  the  Earl  of  Sunderland 
and  the  maiden  wife  of  an  Irish  peer.  There 
was  a  slight  pensiveness  to  her  beauty,  for 
beautiful  she  was ;  yet  there  were  times  when 
the  gayety  of  a  vivacious  spirit  broke  through 
all  restraints,  and  she  was  the  light-hearted, 
witty  girl  that  nature  had  intended  her  to  be. 
Her  eyes  —  beautiful  eyes  they  were,  too, — 
were  large,  clear  and  sparkling  with  spirit,  and 


"Roseen  Dhu" 

the  soft  tints  of  her  complexion  and  the  glossy 
waves  of  her  dark  hair  combined  to  make  a 
charming  picture,  far  more  human  and  bewitch- 
ing, indeed,  than  her  own  portrait  from  the 
brush  of  Lely,  hanging  in  the  great  gallery  at 
Althorpe.  The  pensiveness  of  her  expression 
showed  only  when  her  face  was  in  repose ; 
when  she  smiled  the  sun  shone  through  the 
cloud.  Her  figure  was  gracefully  tall  in  its 
gown  of  white  dimity  flowered  with  pink, 
the  neck  dressed  open  with  falls  of  lace,  and 
the  full  sleeves  loose  and  flowing  at  the  elbow. 
She  moved  lightly  and  swiftly  across  the 
lawn,  one  white  hand  resting  on  the  shoulder 
of  her  handmaid,  who  was  shorter  and  fuller 
in  outline  than  her  mistress.  Though  their 
stations  were  thus  widely  sundered,  a  frank 
girlish  friendship  existed  between  them,  and 
Lady  Betty  had  few  secrets  that  were  not 
shared  by  Alice  Lynn.  They  had  grown  up 
in  the  same  household ;  the  one  child  waiting 
on  the  other  on  all  state  occasions,  but  usually 
her  playmate,  after  the  fashion  of  those  days 
when  the  feudal  tie  of  lord  and  vassal  still 
bound  old  servants  and  their  descendants  to 
their  masters.  The  ancestors  of  Alice  Lynn 
had  borne  the  banner  of  the  Despencers  in 
many  a  bloody  field  ;  she  came  of  good  yeo- 

3 


My  Lady  C  lane  arty 

man  stock,  worthy  of  honor  and  trust,  and  she 
was  single-hearted  in  her  devotion  to  Lady 
Clancarty.  They  made  a  charming  picture, 
walking  through  winding  paths  and  talking 
freely,  with  little  reference  to  their  respective 
stations  in  the  great  world  beyond  Althorpe. 

"  Ah,  the  roses,"  Lady  Betty  said,  "  I  know 
not  whether  I  love  them  best  in  their  first  bud- 
ding or  in  their  prime,  or  when  the  last  few 
pale  blossoms  struggle  to  unfold  under  wintry 
skies,  like  our  poor  hearts,  Alice,  that  need 
to  be  warmed  by  the  sunshine  of  prosperous 
love.  Mine  should  have  shrivelled  up  long 
ago  —  like  an  old  dried  leaf.  But  it  has  not," 
she  added,  smiling  and  laying  her  hand  on  her 
bosom  ;  "  I  feel  it  —  it  throbs  —  it  is  warm  and 
strong  and  whole,  Alice,  and  yet —  I  am  a 
wife  and,  for  aught  I  know,  a  widow  too  !  " 

"  There  be  many  wives  who  would  fain  be 
widows,  I  trow,"  retorted  Alice,  bluntly,  and 
Lady  Betty  laughed  gayly  and  lightly,  the  sun 
shining  in  her  lustrous  eyes. 

"  Perchance  I  am  happy,  then,  in  not  know- 
ing my  husband's  face,"  she  said;  and  added 
musingly,  "  a  strange  fate  is  mine,  Alice,  mar- 
ried at  eleven  and  then  separated  forever  from 
my  husband  by  a  gulf  as  wide  as  —  as  the 
infinite  space  ;  I  know  no  stronger  simile. 

4 


"Roseen  Dhu" 

Here  am  I,  the  daughter  of  a  Whig  peer,  who 
is  a  counsellor  of  King  William's,  and  the 
sister  of  a  burning  Whig  —  for  Spencer  is  on 
fire,  I  am  sure  —  and  yet  I  am  the  wife,  the 
wedded  wife,  of  an  Irish  rebel  and  Jacobite ; 
an  outlaw  from  his  country  and  a  stranger  even 
to  me.  What  a  fate  ! "  and  she  shook  her 
head  with  a  pensive  air,  though  a  smile  lurked 
about  her  lips  for,  after  all,  she  could  not  mourn 
the  absence  of  an  unknown  spouse. 

"  'T  was  wrong  to  marry  a  child  of  such 
tender  years,  my  lady,"  the  handmaid  said 
indignantly ;  "  to  tie  you  up  —  one  of  the 
loveliest  women  in  England  —  to  a  —  a  —  " 
she  broke  off  confused,  catching  Lady  Betty's 
eye. 

"  A  what,  Alice  ?  "  the  countess  asked  dryly ; 
"ay,  I  know  by  your  blushes  and  confusion 
that  you  have  caught  the  contagion,  that  you 
believe  with  Lord  Spencer  that  my  husband 
is  a  consummate  villain.  But  look  you,  my 
girl,  if  there  is  one  thing  above  another  that 
would  make  me  love  a  man  and  take  up  his 
cause,  it  is  to  find  him  the  object  of  senseless 
and  bitter  abuse.  What  of  it  if  Clancarty  has 
not  sought  me  ?  how  could  he  ?  Is  he  not 
banished  from  the  kingdom,  stripped  of  his 
estates,  and  denied  even  his  most  natural  and 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

sacred  rights  ?  "  Lady  Clancarty's  eyes  sparkled 
with  indignation.  "What  of  it,  if  he  is  a 
Jacobite  and  a  Papist?  Is  he  the  only  man 
who  has  changed  his  faith  ?  I  trow  not  !  — 
though  I  should  be  the  last  one  to  say  it,"  and 
she  broke  off,  blushing  crimson. 

The  thought  of  her  own  father's  apostasy,  of 
his  frequent  political  somersaults,  overwhelmed 
her,  and  she  recollected  her  own  dignity  in 
time  to  bridle  her  impulsive  tongue. 

Alice  was  too  discreet  to  take  up  the  argu- 
ment ;  she  stooped,  instead,  to  gather  some 
violets,  and  arranged  them  slowly  and  in  si- 
lence. Lady  Betty  walked  ahead  of  her  to  a 
little  rustic  seat,  and  sitting  down  held  out  her 
hand  with  an  impatient  gesture. 

"  Give  hither  the  violets,  Alice,"  she  said 
imperiously,  "  and  sing  me  a  song.  I  am  in 
as  black  a  mood  as  ever  Saul  was,  and  may  do 
you  a  mischief  if  you  do  not  soothe  me." 

Alice  smiled.  "  I  fear  you  not,  dear  Lady 
Betty,"  she  said,  tuning  her  lute  ;  "your  anger 
passes  over  as  quickly  as  a  storm-cloud  in  April 
weather.  What  shall  I  sing  you,  madam  ?  " 

A  roguish  smile  twinkled  in  Lady  Clancarty's 
eyes. 

"You  shall  do  penance,  lass,  and  sing  me 
either  a  Papist  hymn  or  an  Irish  ballad." 

6 


"Roseen  t)Au" 

tf  Nay,  I  am  no  Papist,  but  a  good  Protes- 
tant," said  Alice,  stiffly,  "  therefore  it  must  be 
an  Irish  ballad,  which  is  what  you  really  want, 
my  lady  !  " 

Lady  Betty  laughed  softly. 

"  'T  is  true,  my  girl,"  she  said,  clasping  her 
hands  about  her  knees,  the  full  sleeves  falling 
away  from  arms  as  white  as  milk.  "  I  love  the 
ballads  ;  whether  for  his  sake  or  their  own,  I 
know  not,"  and  she  bent  her  head  listening  as 
the  handmaid  played  the  first  plaintive  notes 
on  her  lute. 

Alice  was  no  contemptible  musician,  and 
she  touched  the  instrument  softly  with  loving 
fingers,  playing  the  first  sweet  sad  chords  of 
that  old  Irish  air  and  Jacobite  ballad, "  Roseen 
Dhu,"  or  "  Dark  Rosaleen." 

The  garden  and  the  great  park  beyond  and 
around  it  were  quiet  save  for  the  cawing  of  the 
hundreds  of  rooks  that  haunted  those  stately 
avenues  of  trees.  The  warmth  and  the  soft 
murmuring  of  the  late  summer  were  there ; 
here  was  the  deep  shadow  of  stately  groves, 
yonder  the  wide  sunshine  on  level  lawns,  but 
the  place  was  deserted  save  for  the  two  young 
women  and  the  deer  that  were  so  tame  that  they 
pressed  close  about  them,  looking  through  the 
trees  with  soft  brown  eyes,  and  seeming  to 

7 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

listen  to  the  wild,  plaintive  notes  of  the  ballad, 
as  Alice  sang  in  a  full,  mellow  voice  : 

"  All  day  long  in  unrest 
To  and  fro  do  I  move, 
The  very  soul  within  my  breast 
Is  wasted  for  you,  love  ! 
The  heart  in  my  bosom  feints, 
To  think  of  you,  my  queen, 
My  life  of  life,  my  saint  of  saints, 

My  dark  Rosaleen  ! 

My  own  Rosaleen  ! 

To  hear  your  sweet  and  sad  complaints, 
My  life,  my  love,  my  saint  of  saints, 

My  dark  Rosaleen  !  " 

Midway  in  the  song  the  girl  paused,  still 
playing  the  air  softly. 

"  My  lady,"  she  said,  in  an  undertone, 
"  there  is  some  one  yonder  in  the  shrubbery." 

"  'T  is  Melissa,"  replied  Lady  Clancarty  ; 
"  I  have  seen  her.  She  loves  to  lurk  behind  a 
bush,  and  to  slip  along  softly  as  a  cat  upon  nut- 
shells ;  't  is  her  nature.  Faith,  I  must  buy  her 
some  bells  for  her  toes.  Go  on,  my  girl ;  I 
care  not,"  she  added,  laughing,  "and  I  do 
love  the  tune.  Ah,  *  Rosaleen,  my  own  Rosa- 
leen !'"  she  hummed,  keeping  time  with  her 
slender  hand. 

Alice  sang  again : 

8 


" Roseen  D/iu" 

"  Over  dews,  over  sands, 
Will  I  fly  for  your  weal  : 
Your  holy  white  hands 
Shall  gird  me  with  steel. 
At  home  —  in  your  emerald  bowers, 
From  morning's  dawn  till  e'en, 
You  '11  pray  for  me,  my  flower  of  flowers, 

My  dark  Rosaleen  ! 

My  fond  Rosaleen  ! 

You  '11  think  of  me,  through  daylight's  hours, 
My  virgin  flower,  my  flower  of  flowers, 

My  dark  Rosaleen  !  " 

Suddenly  Lady  Clancarty  started  and  half 
rose,  interrupting  the  singer;  but  as  Alice 
looked  up  in  alarm,  she  sat  down  again,  rosy 
and  defiant. 

"  Pshaw  !  "  she  said  ;  "  go  on,  Alice,  there 
comes  Spencer  himself,  and,  forsooth,  I  would 
not  be  frightened  out  of  my  pleasure." 

"  But,  my  lady,"  protested  Alice,  in  con- 
fusion, "  he  will  be  dreadfully  angry,  he  always 
is!" 

"  To  be  sure  he  will,"  retorted  Lady  Betty, 
with  a  ripple  of  laughter,  "  therefore  sing,  lass, 
and  I  will  sing,  too." 

Alice  still  hesitated,  her  eyes  on  the  fig- 
ure of  a  young  man  who  was  coming  swiftly 
across  the  lawn,  but  her  mistress  stamped  her 
foot. 

9 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

"  Sing !  "  she  commanded  so  sharply  that 
Alice  obeyed  hastily,  and  in  a  moment  the 
countess'  rich  contralto  joined  her  voice  in 
singing  the  last  passionate  verse  of  "  Roseen 
Dhu." 

"  O  !  the  Erne  shall  run  red 
With  redundance  of  blood, 
The  earth  shall  rock  beneath  our  tread, 
And  flames  wrap  hill  and  wood, 
And  gun  peal  and  slogan  cry 
Wake  many  a  glen  serene, 
Ere  you  shall  fade,  ere  you  shall  die, 

My  dark  Rosaleen! 

My  own  Rosaleen ! 
The  judgment  hour  must  be  nigh 
Ere  you  can  fade,  ere  you  can  die, 

My  dark  Rosaleen  !  " 


CHAPTER    II 

BROTHER    AND    SISTER 

LORD  CHARLES  SPENCER  paused 
in  the  centre  of  the  triangle. 
"  A  very  pretty    performance,"    he 
said  with  a  sneer,  "  a  very  proper  performance 
—  to  sing  Jacobite  ballads  here  !  " 

"  I  trow  they  are  not  the  first  that  have 
been  sung  here,  brother,"  retorted  Lady  Betty 
pertly. 

"  You  have  a  saucy  tongue,  Elizabeth,"  re- 
plied her  brother  rudely,  turning  white  rather 
than  red,  for  in  this  young  man's  disposition 
anger  went  white,  not  red.  "  'T  would  go  hard 
with  you  if  my  father  heard  that." 

" '  T  would  go  hard  with  you  if  my  father 
heard  that  I  "  mocked  Lady  Betty  incorrigible. 
"  Come,  come,  Charles,  talk  of  something 
agreeable.  What  is  the  volume  under  your 
arm  ?  Noah's  observations  on  droughts  ?  or 
Adam's  reflections  on  mothers-in-law  ?  or  Cain's 
on  brotherly  love  ?  Faith,  I  always  expect 

1 1 


My  Lady  C  lane  arty 

something  profound  from  the  most  erudite 
ornament  of  the  Whig  party." 

"  1  wish  I  might  look  as  certainly  for  dis- 
cretion in  Elizabeth  Spencer,"  he  replied  with 
acrimony. 

"In  Elizabeth  Clancarty,"  corrected  the 
countess,  flashing  an  indignant  glance  at  him. 

"  You  are  marvellously  proud  of  that  beg- 
gar's name,"  retorted  her  brother,  with  cutting 
irony. 

Lady  Clancarty's  face  crimsoned  with  anger. 

"  You  are  a  hypocrite,  Spencer  !  "  she  said, 
stamping  her  foot. 

"  Family  insults  in  public  are  always  becom- 
ing," said  Lord  Spencer,  controlling  himself 
with  an  effort,  but  white  to  the  lips. 

"  Forsooth,  who  began  it  ?  "  recriminated  his 
high-spirited  sister;  "you  might  better  indeed 
talk  of  other  things.  Of  your  fine  clothes,  for 
instance  ;  you  are  truly  '  the  glass  of  fashion,' 
my  lord,  pink  satin  waistcoat  and  breeches, 
gray  plush  coat,  point  of  Venice  ruffles,  white 
silk  stockings,  clocked,  too,  with  pink,  French 
shoes  and  buckles,  —  mercy  on  us,  sir !  what 
splendor  for  beggarly  Lady  Clancarty  and  quiet 
Althorpe ! " 

Lord  Spencer,  who  was  indeed  dressed  in 
the  extreme  of  fashion,  bit  his  lip,  scowling 

12 


Brother  and  Sister 

darkly  at  Lady  Betty  and  Alice,  who  remained 
discreetly  in  the  background. 

"  You  do  well  to  boast  of  your  dishonored 
name,  madam,"  he  said  coldly,  "  but  my  Lord 
Sunderland  intends  that  you  shall  be  divorced 
from  that  disreputable  Irish  rebel." 

"And  what  if  I  will  not,  my  lord?"  asked 
the  countess,  her  face  blazing  with  defiance. 

"  You  are  a  fool,"  said  Spencer  sharply ; 
"  happy  you  would  be  —  dragged  into  exile  by 
a  rake  and  a  scapegrace  —  but,  pshaw !  what 
nonsense  I  talk  —  " 

"  You  do,  sir ! "  interrupted  his  sister  de- 
fiantly. 

"  Nonsense  because  Clancarty  does  not  want 
you."  He  continued,  with  a  provoking  drawl, 
"  Where  is  your  husband,  my  lady  ?  For- 
sooth you  do  not  know  —  but  I  do !  At 
Saint  Germain  and  at  Paris ;  a  gambler,  a 
rake,  a  cutpurse,  with  half  a  dozen  lady-loves 
to  —  " 

"  Silence  !  "  cried  Lady  Betty  furiously,  ris- 
ing in  her  indignation.  "  Shame  on  you,  sir, 
to  insult  a  woman  and  she  your  sister,  and  to 
blacken  a  gallant  gentleman  behind  his  back. 
Is  that  your  virtue?  Faith,  I  believe  a  witty 
rogue  would  be  a  happier  companion  than  a 
virtuous  bore ! " 

13 


My  Lady  Clancarty 

"  Your  tongue  will  cut  your  throat  yet, 
madam,"  said  Spencer  harshly ;  "  you  have 
worked  yourself  into  this  passion  ;  you  have 
never  seen  your  husband  since  childhood,  and 
you  do  not  know  him.  It  is  my  duty  as  your 
brother,  a  painful  duty,  I  admit,"  he  said 
pompously,  "  to  tell  you  the  truth.  Lord 
Clancarty  is  a  notorious  scamp,  a  dissolute  fel- 
low, a  murderer  and  oppressor  ;  and,  as  for 
you,  what  does  he  care  for  you  ?  You  little 
fool,  he  has  never  sought  you  —  and  never 
will !  "  and  with  this  taunt  my  lord  turned  on 
his  heel  and  walked  decorously  but  swiftly 
away,  wise  enough  to  fly  before  his  sister 
could  retaliate. 

Lady  Betty  stood  as  he  had  left  her  for  a 
moment,  her  little  hands  clenched  and  her 
face  crimson. 

"  The  mean  hypocrite  !  "  she  cried,  "  to  fling 
it  in  my  teeth.  I  vow  I  sometimes  almost 
hate  Spencer  —  and  yet  he  is  my  brother. 
I  'm  a  beast,  Alice,  a  wretch  !  but  oh  ! "  and 
suddenly  her  mood  changed  ;  she  threw  herself 
on  the  garden-seat,  trembling  with  emotion, 
tears  on  her  dark  lashes.  "  Oh,  why  must  I 
be  so  cruelly  insulted  ?  'T  is  true,  Alice,  't  is 
true ;  Clancarty  has  never  even  cared  to  claim 
his  wife  !  Think  of  it,  I  —  I  —  Betty  Spencer, 

'4 


Brother  and  Sister 

scorned  by  an  Irish  Jacobite  !  "  and  she  burst 
into  tears. 

"  My  lady,"  purred  a  smooth  voice,  as  the 
other  attendant  suddenly  and  softly  stepped 
into  view,  from  the  friendly  shadow  of  an  elm  ; 
"be  consoled,  'tis  even  as  Lord  Spencer  —  " 

"  Go  !  "  cried  the  countess  furiously,  dash- 
ing away  her  tears  and  stamping  her  foot  at 
Melissa.  "  Go !  What  do  I  want  of  your 
consolation,  you  eavesdropper  !  " 

"  My  lady,  I  beg  pardon,"  stammered  the 
confused  waiting-woman,  "I  —  " 

"  Go  !  "  repeated  the  countess  imperiously, 
with  a  gesture  of  disdain.  "  When  I  want 
you,  I  will  summon  you." 

With  a  look  of  ill-disguised  anger  on  her 
smooth  face,  but  with  an  attempted  air  of 
humility,  the  attendant  withdrew  as  softly  as 
she  had  approached,  and  Lady  Betty  recalled 
her  dignity. 

"  Pshaw  !  "  she  said,  "  what  a  creature  I  am, 
Alice,  so  to  betray  myself,  and  to  stoop  to 
quarrel  with  that  worm,  Melissa  !  I  did  not 
think,  I  never  think ;  but,  oh,  my  girl,  my  lot 
has  many  thorns  !  Alas,  and  alas  ! 

'  Once  I  bloomed  a  maiden  young 
A  widow' s  woe  now  moves  my  tongue  ; ' 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

and  a  widow  by  desertion.  Ah,  how  I  hate 
the  taunt !  "  and  she  stamped  her  foot. 

"  Heed  it  not,  dear  Lady  Betty,"  murmured 
Alice,  "  't  is  not  true." 

"  Ah,  but  it  is,  girl,  it  is,"  cried  Lady  Clan- 
carty,  with  an  impatient  gesture,  "  and  I  despise 
myself  for  caring." 

"  Are  you  sure,  madam,  that  Lord  Clancarty 
has  made  no  effort  to  claim  his  bride,  or  to 
see  you  ?  "  Alice  asked  soberly,  standing  alone 
in  the  triangle  opposite  Lady  Betty,  the  sun 
shining  in  a  friendly  fashion  on  her  comely, 
honest  face. 

"Am  I  sure?"  repeated  the  countess  in 
surprise,  and  her  expression  changed  swiftly ; 
"  do  you  think  he  may  have  tried  to  communi- 
cate with  me  and  failed  ?  " 

"  Why  not,  my  lady  ? "  replied  the  hand- 
maid simply  ;  "  we  know  how  my  Lord  Spencer 
feels  ;  and  your  father,  the  earl,  madam,  is, 
perhaps,  as  little  inclined  toward  your  husband." 

Lady  Betty  sat  looking  down  reflectively, 
tapping  her  foot  on  the  gravel  path. 

"It  may  be  so,"  she  said  thoughtfully ; 
"  your  brain  is  growing  keen,  Alice,  from  cross- 
ing swords  with  mine  ! "  and  she  laughed,  for 
she  was  an  April  creature  with  swift-changing 
moods.  She  rose,  throwing  out  her  hands 

16 


Brother  and  Sister 

with  a  pretty  gesture,  as  though  she  threw  care 
to  the  winds. 

"  O  Donough  Macarthy,  Earl  of  Clancarty, 
art  worthy  all  these  heart  beats  of  mine  ?  "  she 
cried,  and  laughed  as  gayly  as  a  child.  "  I 
tell  thee,  Alice,  he  has  not  seen  me  for  years, 
not  since  I  was  eleven,  and  he  pictures  me 
with  a  turned-up  nose  and  freckles  and  red 
hair,  and  is  half  frightened  to  death  at  the 
thought  of  his  English  bride." 

"  Your  hair  was  never  red,  my  lady,"  said 
Alice  soberly. 

"  Pshaw,  child,  he  has  forgotten,  poor  lad  !  " 
laughed  Lady  Betty,  herself  again  ;  "  he  may 
think  my  nose  red,  too ! " 


'7 


CHAPTER    III 

LADY    BETTY    AND    HER    FATHER 

IT  was  after  sundown  and  the  light  was 
dim  in  the  great  gallery  of  Althorpe. 
Candles  were  set  in  silver  sconces  at 
intervals  down  its  whole  length  of  over  a  hun- 
dred feet,  but  between  lay  soft  shadows,  and 
the  pictured  faces  of  many  famous  men  and 
women,  of  sovereigns  of  England,  statesmen, 
soldiers,  and  court  beauties,  looked  down  from 
the  walls  on  either  hand.  Holbein  and  Van 
Dyke  and  Lely  had  wrought  upon  these  can- 
vases. Here  was  the  famous  Duchess  of 
Cleveland,  painted  by  Lely,  and  the  Countess 
of  Grammont,  and  yonder  was  Lady  Ports- 
mouth and  Nell  Gwynne  herself;  and  in  this 
strange  company,  the  fair,  sweet,  coquettish 
face  of  Betty  Clancarty,  lovely  as  any  of  the 
court  beauties  and  far  more  lovable  and  true. 

The    floor   was    polished    and    strewn   with 
splendid    rugs;   far-off   India,  Turkey,    Italy, 

France,  and  Holland  had  contributed  rugs  and 

18 


Lady  Betty  and  Her  Father 

tapestries,  paintings,  beautiful  bric-a-brac  and 
statuary  to  decorate  the  famous  gallery  of  the 
Spencers,  where  Anne  of  Denmark,  Queen  of 
James  the  First,  and  the  young  Prince  Charles, 
the  future  royal  martyr,  saw  the  Masque  of 
Ben  Jonson.  Here,  too,  came  doubtless  King 
Charles  the  First,  he  who  created  Henry 
Spencer  Earl  of  Sunderland ;  here,  also, 
reigned  the  daughter  of  the  Sidneys,  Dorothy, 
Countess  of  Sunderland,  the  heroine  of  Waller's 
verses  and  the  grandmother  of  Lady  Betty. 
A  gallery  full  of  memories,  where  royalty  and 
beauty  smiled  dimly  from  the  great  canvases, 
and  every  footstep  woke  an  echo  of  the  past. 

At  that  sunset  hour  the  place  was  quiet  save 
for  the  cawing  of  the  rooks  under  the  eaves, 
for  they  haunted  every  corner  of  the  house  and 
congregated  in  the  long  avenues  that  enfiladed 
the  park  ;  yet  even  the  sound  of  bird  consulta- 
tions did  not  disturb  the  revery  of  the  man 
who  slowly  paced  up  and  down  the  gallery  —  a 
man  past  middle  age  with  an  inscrutable  face,  his 
head  a  little  bowed  as  he  walked,  his  hands  behind 
his  back,  his  dress  a  long  gown  of  black  velvet, 
rufHes  of  lace  at  the  throat  and  over  the  slender 
white  hands  —  a  strange  man,  self-possessed, 
complacent,  smooth,  infinitely  winning  of  ad- 
dress, and  one  of  the  most  unscrupulous  poli- 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

ticians  and  time-servers  of  that  time-serving 
age  when  William  the  Third  knew  not  where 
to  look  among  his  English  counsellors  for 
steady  faith,  when  it  was  no  uncommon  thing 
for  a  man  to  swear  allegiance  both  at  West- 
minster and  Saint  Germain,  and  to  be  an 
apostate  besides.  Even  in  that  age  of  false- 
hood and  double  dealing,  Robert,  second  Earl 
of  Sunderland,  excelled  his  fellows;  but  if  he 
excelled  them  in  falsehood,  so  did  he  also  in 
discernment,  in  the  power  to  read  men,  and  to 
win  them  by  his  polished  and  smooth  address, 
the  charm  of  a  personality  that  had  won  even 
upon  the  cold  astuteness  of  the  king  himself. 

Whatever  his  thoughts  were  now,  Lord 
Sunderland's  face  was  placid,  his  perfect  mask 
of  serenity  immutable,  as  he  walked  to  and 
fro,  now  and  then  pausing  to  look  critically  at 
a  fine  picture,  or  to  take  counsel  with  himself, 
and  he  looked  up  with  a  calm  smile  when  the 
door  at  the  farther  end  of  the  gallery  opened  and 
the  graceful  figure  of  Lady  Betty  came  swiftly 
toward  him.  He  admired  his  daughter  deeply, 
but  subtle  as  he  was  he  did  not  understand 
her.  His  standard  of  womanhood  was  differ- 
ent, and  he  had  no  ennobling  example  in  his 
wife  ;  she  had  been  false  to  him  and  he  had 
known  it,  and  had  used  the  services  of  her 

20 


Lady  Betty  and  Her  Father 

Jover  to  smooth  his  own  way  with  William  of 
Orange,  while  he  himself  was  vowing  fealty  to 
James  the  Second  and  walking  barefoot,  taper 
in  hand,  to  the  chapel  royal  to  be  admitted 
into  the  Roman  communion  —  a  communion 
he  renounced  as  easily  at  a  convenient  season. 
This  daughter  who  had  grown  up  unlike  either 
parent  in  simplicity  and  retirement,  this  beauti- 
ful, spirited,  pure-souled  creature  he  did  not 
understand,  but  he  admired  her,  and  after  his 
own  fashion  he  loved  her.  On  the  other  hand, 
Lady  Betty  understood  him  in  many  ways 
more  thoroughly  than  he  dreamed ;  she  had  a 
woman's  intuitions,  and  she  did  not  reverence 
him ;  his  subtlety,  his  falsehood,  his  smooth 
affability  did  not  deceive  her;  she  looked  at 
him  with  clear  eyes,  and  knew  him  better  than 
the  wise  and  watchful  sovereign  whom  he  served. 
But  she  was  his  daughter  and  she  inherited  all 
his  charm  of  manner,  his  smooth  tongue,  his 
easy  address,  and  he  saw  it  and  always  smiled 
upon  her. 

She  came  up  to  him  now  with  a  sparkle 
in  her  eyes  which  portended  more  than  he 
imagined. 

"  Are  you  better,  sir  ? "  she  asked,  with 
solicitude  ;  "  your  absence  from  table  disturbed 
me.  Was  it  illness  or  politics  ?  " 

21 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

"  Both,  Betty,"  replied  the  earl  smiling ; 
"  but  you  missed  me  not,  you  had  a  younger 
and  a  better  man  in  Spencer." 

"  Faith,  sir,  I  would  rather  have  a  worse 
one,"  retorted  Lady  Betty,  with  a  shrug,  "  such 
piety  and  virtue  are  too  much,  they  overwhelm 
me.  'Tis  a  pity  that  good  men  are  so  often 
bores  !  " 

Sunderland  smiled,  amusement  twinkling  in 
his  deep-set  eyes. 

"  I  have  often  found  them  so,  Betty,"  he 
admitted ;  "  but  Charles  is  a  worthy  youth,  my 
dear,  and  his  advice,  though  often  somewhat 
tedious  and  long  winded,  is  weighty  and 
merits  consideration." 

"  It  may  be  so,"  replied  the  countess,  with 
an  arch  smile;  "but  upon  my  soul,  sir,  he  was 
so  long  and  loud  in  braying  it  at  me  that  I 
fell  to  looking  at  his  ears,  expecting  to  see 
them  start  up  on  either  side  of  his  head  and 
grow  long  and  pointed.  He  is  tedious  !  "  and 
her  ladyship  yawned. 

"  Brothers  often  are,  Betty,"  remarked  the 
earl  smiling ;  "  you  must  have  other  and  gayer 
company.  In  fact,  I  was  but  now  planning  to 
send  you  to  Newmarket  for  the  races ;  Lady 
Sunderland  is  there,  Spencer  is  going,  and  I  go 
presently.  You  have  lived  too  much  in  retire- 

22 


Lady  Betty  and  Her  Father 

ment  here ;  you  must  go  to  Newmarket  and 
hear  gayer  talk  than  the  discourses  of  our 
young  sage." 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  escape  the  oracle,"  said 
the  countess ;  but  she  glanced  searchingly  at 
her  father  and  added  quietly,  "My  retire- 
ment becomes  me,  sir;  I  am  practically  a 
widow." 

The  earl's  expression  changed  a  trifle,  but 
such  a  trifle  that  his  daughter  made  little  of  it. 

"  We  will  not  refer  to  that  unhappy  con- 
tract," he  said  smoothly  ;  "  it  was  an  error  on 
my  part,  Elizabeth,  and  I  assure  you  I  repent 
it." 

"Has  Lord  Clancarty  written  to  you,  father?" 
she  asked,  so  abruptly  that  Sunderland  started, 
and  for  an  instant  his  eye  faltered  under  hers, 
and  he  hesitated  before  he  was  himself  again. 

"  Never,"  he  said  calmly,  closing  his  silver 
snuff-box  and  giving  the  lid  a  friendly  little 
tap. 

His  momentary  confusion,  though,  was 
nearly  his  undoing ;  his  daughter  laid  a  white 
hand  on  his  arm. 

"  He  has  written  you,"  she  said  imperiously, 
"  and  lately,  too  !  " 

"  Upon  my  word,  Elizabeth,"  said  the  earl 
frowning,  "  you  go  too  far." 

23 


My  Lady  Clan  car  ty 

"  I  cannot  help  it,"  she  cried  impetuously. 
"  Have  I  no  rights  ?  Ought  it  to  be  con- 
cealed from  me  and  confided  to  my  brother, 
who  only  taunts  me  ?  My  husband  has  written 
you!"  ' 

Sunderland  had  recovered  himself  now, 
however,  and  smiled  calmly  at  her. 

"  You  are  too  headstrong,  my  love,"  he 
said  smoothly,  "too  easily  suspicious.  If 
Clancarty  wrote,  why  should  I  conceal  it? 
As  you  remark,  he  is  your  husband  in  the 
eyes  of  the  law,  but  your  husband  in  fact  he 
is  not,  and  trust  me,  Betty,  he  is  too  great  a 
Jacobite  to  risk  himself  in  England." 

"  But,  father,  the  Peace  of  Ryswick  has 
brought  many  back,"  she  said,  "  and  we  all 
know  —  it  is  notorious  how  easy  King  Wil- 
liam is  —  and  you,  you  could  get  Clancarty's 
pardon  a  thousand  times  over,  if  you  would  ! " 

"  Hear  the  child ! "  said  Sunderland,  with  a 
gesture  of  mock  despair.  "  Why,  Betty, 
't  was  marvellous  hard  to  get  my  own,  and  the 
politicians  hate  me  so  that  not  even  Spencer's 
devotion  to  the  Whigs  appeases  that  party. 
Clancarty's  pardon!  —  'twould  cost  me  my 
liberty  and,  perhaps,  my  head." 

"  Nonsense  !  "  pouted  Lady  Betty ;  "  you 
are  the  king's  friend ;  I  will  not  believe  you. 


Lady  Betty  and  Her  Father 

And  you  might,  at  least,  take  thought  of  me ; 
I  am  his  wife." 

"O  child,  child!"  laughed  Lord  Sunder- 
land,  "  as  little  his  wife  as  my  Lady  Devon- 
shire or  the  Princess  Anne.  Married  to  him, 
through  your  father's  folly,  when  you  were 
eleven  and  parted  from  him  on  the  instant. 
What  virtue  is  there  in  such  a  contract?  Be 
sure,  my  love,  he  has  in  no  wise  respected  it  — 
nor  will  he  while  I  have  my  daughter  safe 
with  me.  Think  not  of  him,  Betty  !  'T  was 
my  folly,  but  then  he  possessed  large  estates  in 
Munster  and  it  promised  to  be  a  great  match  ; 
for,  believe  me,  I  had  no  thought  of  tying 
you  to  a  proscribed  and  penniless  scapegrace." 

"  Ay,"  said  Lady  Betty,  with  spirit,  "  he 
was  rich  and  now  he  is  poor;  therefore,  my 
lord,  I  will  not  desert  him  !  " 

Lord  Sunderland  laughed,  but  his  eyes  did 
not  laugh  with  him. 

"  There  is  no  question  of  desertion,  my 
child,"  he  said  smoothly,  "  you  are  not  his 
wife,  and  you  never  shall  be." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  retorted  the  in- 
corrigible countess,  "  I  am  his  wife,  and  I  will 
be  no  other  man's." 

"  Tush!"  replied  the  earl  impatiently,  "you 
know  not  what  you  say.  Go  to  your  apart- 

25 


My  Lady  Clancarty 

ment,  Elizabeth,  and  reflect  upon  the  matter 
until  you  recollect  your  duty  to  me.  Here 
comes  Spencer  now  with  some  visitors,  and  I 
have  no  more  leisure  for  your  childish  folly." 

But  Lady  Betty  would  not  be  silenced ;  as 
she  retired  toward  the  door  opposite  the  one 
that  was  opening  to  admit  the  earl's  visitors, 
she  murmured  low  but  distinctly,  — 

"  I  am  his  wife,  my  lord,  and  I  will  be  no 
less,"  and  she  swept  out  with  her  face  aflame 
and  her  head  high. 

She  came  to  the  head  of  the  great  staircase 
and  stood  looking  down,  gracefully  poised,  her 
finger  on  her  lips ;  a  charming  figure,  musing 
upon  destiny,  with  the  soft  candlelight  shining 
down  upon  her  stately  young  head  and  her 
flowing  white  robes.  She  began  to  hum  softly 
to  herself  the  air  of"  Roseen  Dhu." 

"  And  one  beaming  smile  from  you 
Would  float  like  light  between 
My  toils  and  me,  my  own,  my  true, 

My  dark  Rosaleen! 

My  fond  Rosaleen! 
Would  give  me  life  and  soul  anew, 
A  second  life,  a  soul  anew ! 

My  dark  Rosaleen!  " 


26 


CHAPTER  IV 

IN    THE    WOODS    OF    ALTHORPE 

A.THORPE,  called  in  Domesday  Books 
"  Ollethorp,"  —  and  held  before  the 
Conquest,  as  the  freehold  of  Tosti 
and  Snorterman,  —  had  been  the  home  of  the 
Spencers  since  the  days  of  Henry  the  Seventh, 
when  one  John  Catesby,  second  son  of  John 
Catesby  of  Legus  Ashby,  sold  it  to  John 
Spencer,  Esquire,  son  of  William  Spencer  of 
Wormleighton,'  in  Warwickshire,  descended 
from  the  younger  branch  of  the  Despencers, 
anciently  Earls  of  Gloucester  and  Winchester, 
and  still  more  remotely  from  Ivo,  Viscount 
Constantine,  who  married  Emma,  daughter 
of  Alan  of  Brittany,  before  the  Conquest  — 
coming,  therefore,  by  blood  from  one  of  the 
great  feudal  lords  of  France. 

Althorpe  House  was  built  of  freestone,  in 
the  form  of  the  letter  H,  the  two  long  wings 
joined  by  a  central  building  in  which  was  the 
main  entrance  facing  south.  It  stood  in  a 

27 


My  Lady  Clancarty 

beautiful  spot,  level  and  well  wooded.  The 
old  gatehouse,  remnant  of  the  feudal  strength 
of  Althorpe,  had  once  been  surrounded  by  a 
moat,  but  that  had  long  since  run  dry  and  was 
overgrown  with  turf  as  smooth  as  velvet.  The 
long  avenues  of  elms  and  beeches  and  limes 
ran  from  it  to  the  very  doors  of  the  earl's 
house,  and  about  it  lay  the  park,  enfiladed  by 
those  avenues  of  stately  trees,  while  beyond 
were  the  meadows — in  the  old  time  it  was  said 
that  there  were  eight  acres  of  meadowland  and 
two  of  thornwood  in  one  small  portion  of  the 
freehold  of  Ollethorp  —  and  now  the  great 
domain  stretched  out  on  every  hand,  beautified 
by  nature  and  by  art. 

It  was  in  the  woods  of  the  park  that  Lady 
Betty  and  her  attendant,  Alice  Lynn,  walked 
on  the  morning  after  her  interview  with  her 
father.  It  was  too  threatening  to  set  out 
upon  the  journey  to  Newmarket,  so  they 
strolled  on  the  outskirts  of  the  earl's  domain. 
Both  girls  were  cloaked  and  hooded  and  pre- 
pared for  rain  and,  indeed,  more  than  once 
there  was  the  sharp  pattering  of  drops  on  the 
thick  foliage  overhead.  They  did  not  hasten 
their  steps,  for  neither  of  them  feared  the 
elements,  and  Lady  Betty  really  feared  noth- 
ing greatly,  being  a  high-spirited  and  daring 

28 


In  the  tf^oods  of  Althorpe 

young  creature  who  loved  adventure  well.  A 
fresh  breeze  began  to  blow,  rustling  the  leaves, 
and  the  branches  swayed  and  creaked  above 
them,  a  trellis-work  of  wavering  green  through 
which  the  gray  sky  blinked  occasionally.  To 
the  left  was  a  coppice,  black  with  shadows ; 
before  them,  here  and  there,  a  wide  vista  of 
open  fields  showed  the  grass  rippling  in  a 
thousand  waves  ;  and  again  the  tree-tops  that 
seemed  to  touch  the  long,  ragged  clouds 
scudding  so  low,  heavy  with  moisture  and 
torn  by  wind.  And  the  same  wind  —  grown 
caressing  —  tossed  the  soft  locks  of  Lady 
Betty's  hair  into  little  curls  about  her  face 
under  the  yellow  bird's-eye  hood. 

"  What  have  you  there,  Alice  ?  "  she  asked, 
as  the  girl  stooped  and  peeped  into  a  patch  of 
grass  growing  in  an  opening  between  the  trees. 

"  'T  is  but  a  four-leafed  clover,  madam," 
Alice  replied,  pulling  it. 

Lady  Clancarty  took  it  and  looked  at  it 
with  a  quizzical  eye. 

"There  is  a  saying  in  Devonshire,"  she 
said,  "  that  if  you  find  a  four-leafed  clover  and 
an  even-leafed  ash  on  the  same  day  you  will 
surely  see  your  love  ere  sundown." 

"  I  have  none,  my  lady,"  replied  Alice 
demurely. 

29 


My  Lady  C  lane  arty 

Lady  Betty  laughed  with  a  delicious  ripple 
of  merriment. 

"  You  have  none,  girl  ? "  she  said  archly. 
"  What  a  prompt  confession  !  I  grow  sus- 
picious, Alice,  and  see,  there  is  the  tell-tale 
blood  creeping  up  to  your  hair.  Fie,  girl,  fie  ! 
Where  is  thy  true  love,  thine  own  love 
now?" 

"  Indeed,  I  know  not,  madam,"  replied 
Alice  meekly ;  "  no  one  ever  wooed  me  but 
the  parson,  and  his  mouth  was  so  large  that  it 
frightened  me ;  it  did  open  his  head  like  a 
lid." 

"  Mercy  on  us,  girl,  'twas  an  opening  in  life 
for  you,"  laughed  Lady  Betty  ;  "and  'tis  said 
that  a  large  mouth  is  generous." 

"  He  was  a  great  eater,  madam,"  replied  the 
handmaid  bluntly. 

"  Then  were  you  surely  meant  for  him, 
lass,  for  you  are  a  famous  maker  of  pastries, 
as  I  know.  But  tell  me,  Alice,  did  ever  you 
have  your  fortune  told  ? " 

"Nay,  'twas  not  thought  seemly  by  my 
aunt,"  replied  Alice ;  "  I  was  reared  as  strict  as 
any  Calvinist." 

"  And  yet  live  with  a  sinner,"  said  Lady 
Clancarty  with  a  smile.  "  I  would  inquire  my 
fate,  if  there  be  any  fortune-teller  or  sooth- 

3° 


In  the  Woods  of  Althorpe 

sayer  near.  I  grow  more  curious  every  day, 
Alice,  to  know  what  the  end  may  be." 

"  Ignorance  is  ofttimes  best,  my  lady," 
quietly  replied  her  attendant. 

"It  may  be,"  Lady  Clancarty  said;  "but 
sooth,  Alice,  'tis  very  trying.  I  would  fain 
know  —  I  would  fathom  that  dark  cloud  that 
hangs  upon  my  destiny." 

"  Dear  Lady  Betty,"  Alice  said,  "  is  there 
indeed  a  dark  cloud  upon  it  ?  It  seems  to  my 
humble  vision  fair  as  summer  sunshine,  and 
high  and  noble." 

The  mistress  sighed.  "  Ah,  simple  maid," 
she  said,  "look  not  enviously  upon  high 
estate.  Light  hearted  I  was  born,  gay  and 
full  of  recklessness,  I  believe,  but  happy  — 
ah,  Alice,  once  I  was !  But  now,  my  mind 
keeps  turning  ever  to  the  thought  of  one  less 
happy  ;  I  have  a  home  and  he  —  he  has  none ; 
I  have  friends  —  belike,  he  is  friendless.  I 
have  money,  a  dower  cut  from  his  estates 
in  Munster ;  he  is  a  beggar  !  O  Alice,  it 
grieves  me  ;  I  would  fain  help  him  ;  I  would 
fain  give  him  back  my  dower;  I  would  — 
oh,  do  you  not  see  what  I  must  seem  to 
him?  Heartless,  cold,  without  sense  of  my 
duty,  a  robber  and  an  enemy?  I  who  am 
true,  I  who  have  only  too  kind  a  heart,  I  who 

31 


My  Lady  Clancarty 

would  give  my  all  to  help  him — what  is  the 
song  ? 

'  Oh,  I  could  kneel  all  night  in  prayer, 
To  heal  your  many  ills  !  ' 

Alice,  I  must  know  how  my  husband  fares, 
I  —  mercy  on  us,  girl,  what  ails  you  ?  " 
she  cried,  for  Alice  had  given  a  scream  of 
alarm,  starting  back  from  the  coppice  near  at 
hand. 

"  There 's  some  one  there !  "  cried  the 
handmaid,  in  agitation,  "  I  saw  a  man's  boot 
and  spur  yonder." 

"  Where  ? "  demanded  Lady  Betty  im- 
patiently, "  where  is  your  scare-crow,  you  little 
simpleton  ? " 

But  before  Alice  could  reply  a  large  man 
emerged  from  the  beeches  and  advanced 
toward  them.  He  was  clad  in  a  long  riding 
coat  of  dark  blue  with  deep  capes,  and  his 
high  boots  were  splashed  with  mud.  As  he 
approached  he  lifted  his  wide-brimmed,  be- 
plumed  hat,  uncovering  a  head  which  was 
striking  in  contour.  His  face  was  of  a  bold 
and  handsome  type  and  his  dark  gray  eyes 
were  keen ;  he  wore  the  full,  long  periwig  of 
the  prevailing  fashion  and  a  flowing  cravat  of 
Flemish  lace. 

3* 


In  the  Woods  of  Althorpe 

"  A  likely  bugbear,  my  girl,"  whispered 
Lady  Betty  roguishly,  pinching  Alice's  arm, 
but  turning  an  innocent  face  upon  the 
stranger. 

"  I  crave  pardon,"  he  said,  with  an  easy 
salutation,  "  I  have  lost  my  way ;  will  you 
direct  me  to  Northampton  ?  " 

"  The  town  lies  five  miles  from  us,  sir," 
replied  Lady  Betty,  "  and  the  tavern  of  the 
King's  Arms  is  upon  the  high  street." 

"  I  thank  you,"  he  replied  courteously,  but 
with  no  apparent  desire  to  depart,  and  gazed 
at  Lady  Clancarty  with  an  open  admiration 
that  offended  Alice,  who  plucked  at  her 
mistress'  sleeve. 

"Will  you  tell  me  what  place  this  is?"  he 
added,  pointing  at  Althorpe  House. 

"It  belongs  to  our  master,  the  Earl  of 
Sunderland,"  replied  Lady  Betty,  affecting 
the  pert  air  of  a  waiting-maid ;  "  't  is  a  fine 
place,  sir,  with  a  gallery  full  of  pictures  and 
another  full  of  books  and  books  and  books  ! 
Dear  me,  sir,  a  sight  of  'em  !  Your  worship 
should  go  and  look  at  'em;  'tis  a  very  hos- 
pitable house,  too,  and  strangers  are  made 
welcome." 

"  Indeed,"  he  said,  with  a  smile,  "  I  would 
be  glad  to  avail  myself  of  the  opportunity  — 
3  33 


My  Lady  C  lane  arty 

at    another    season.      And    you,    my    pretty 
maids,  are  the  keeper's  daughters  ?  " 

"  Faith,  yes,  sir,"  said  Lady  Clancarty,  drop- 
ping a  courtesy,  "  we  're  twins." 

"  By  Saint  Patrick,  you  are  strangely  untwin- 
like  !  "  remarked  the  stranger  frankly  ;  "  never 
saw  I  two  birds  from  one  nest  with  less  resem- 
blance;  one  a  pigeon  and  the  other — " 

"  What,  your  honor  ?  "  demanded  Lady 
Betty  roguishly,  while  Alice  plucked  at  her 
skirts  in  genuine  confusion  and  fear. 

"  A  bird  of  Paradise,"  said  he  gallantly,  kiss- 
ing the  tips  of  his  fingers  to  her. 

Lady  Betty  hung  her  head,  simpering  like 
the  veriest  country  girl. 

"  Faith,  sir,"  she  said,  fingering  her  ker- 
chief, "  I  don't  know  what  that  is.  Is  it 
poultry? " 

"  It  has  wings,  my  dear,"  he  replied  smiling, 
"  but,  in  this  case,  they  are  only  figurative." 

"  La,  sir  !  "  cried  Lady  Betty,  "  what 's 
that  ?  It  sounds  like  something  strange." 

"It's  a  figure  of  speech,  my  girl,"  he  re- 
plied, a  daring  smile  in  his  gray  eyes  as  he 
drew  a  step  nearer  and  Betty  retreated  a  step, 
partly  drawn  by  Alice ;  "  but  eyes  like  stars 
and  cheeks  like  roses  do  not  belong  to  the 
barnyard." 

34 


In  the  Woods  of  Althorpe 

Her  ladyship,  suspecting  that  she  had  be- 
trayed herself,  bridled  a  little,  but  her  love  of 
mischief  kept  her  from  flight. 

"  Faith  !  "  she  said,  looking  down,  "  you 
fine  gentlemen  talk  so  finely  that  a  poor  maid 
cannot  follow  you.  Go  to  the  tavern,  sir,  and 
there  your  worship  will  find  a  listener  after 
your  own  heart,  for  they  do  say  that  saucy 
Polly  can  talk  up  to  Lord  Spencer  himself,  and 
he  's  the  most  learned  man  in  England,  sir ; 
and,  indeed,  I  do  believe  that  all  the  others 
that  ever  knew  half  as  much  died  of  it  imme- 
diately and  were  buried  !  Go  to  the  tavern,  sir, 
and  good  cheer  to  you  and  good  by,"  and  her 
ladyship  dropped  another  awkward  courtesy. 

"  Here,  lass,  a  kiss  and  a  crown  for  your 
pains,"  said  the  stranger,  making  a  sudden 
attempt  to  catch  her  by  the  arm. 

But  Lady  Betty  danced  off  as  light  as  a 
feather,  laughing  roguishly  under  her  hood. 

"  Nay,  sir,"  she  said  wickedly,  "girls  do 
not  kiss  strangers  in  this  country  if  they  do  — 
in  France ! " 

"Confound  the  witch!"  ejaculated  the 
traveller,  with  a  start  of  surprise.  "  Pshaw  ! 
't  was  my  French  coin  she  saw,"  he  added,  and 
smiled  as  he  watched  the  two  girlish  figures 
flying  through  the  trees. 

35 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

Meanwhile  Lady  Betty  was  laughing  and 
Alice  remonstrating. 

"  Oh,  my  lady,  how  could  you  ?  "  she  said  ; 
"  he  might  recognize  you,  he  might  have  kissed 
you  !  " 

"So  he  might!"  admitted  Lady  Clancarty 
gleefully,  "and  how  handsome  he  is  !  Did  you 
mark  him,  Alice,  is  he  not  handsome  ?  " 

"  Nay,  madam,"  said  the  discreet  handmaid, 
still  shocked  and  frightened,  "  that  I  know 
not,  but  he  was  overbold  in  staring  at  your 
ladyship." 

"  Did  he  so?  "  asked  Lady  Betty  pensively, 
blushing  in  a  tell-tale  fashion ;  "  I  noted 
it  not ;  but  was  he  not  tall  and  strong 
and  finely  framed,  Alice,  with  a  bonny  gray 
eye  ? " 

"  Oh,  comely  enough  in  appearance,  my 
lady,  but  bold  and  with  a  reckless  air  ;  I  trem- 
bled lest  he  should  insult  you." 

"  Pooh,  pooh,  girl,  you  would  love  a  milk- 
sop! "  said  Lady  Betty  petulantly  ;  "  he  has 
the  very  eye  and  front  of  a  soldier.  I  '11  wager 
he  is  some  gallant  who  can  strike  a  good  blow 
for  his  sweetheart.  What  fun  would  there  be 
in  life  without  a  harmless  jest?  He  took  me 
for  a  waiting-woman." 

"  That  he  did  not !  "  cried  Alice,  "  he  knew 
36 


In  the  Woods  of  Althorpe 

you,  take  my  word  for  it,  and  he  would  have 
kissed  you,  the  daring  wretch  !  " 

The  handmaid  shuddered  at  the  thought 
and  the  mistress  laughed  at  her  perturbation, 
laughed  with  sweet  gayety,  her  mirth  rippling 
in  low,  joyous  notes. 

"  You  have  no  eye  for  a  fine  man,  Alice," 
she  said  blithely  ;  "  you  little  prude,  do  you 
think  I  would  have  let  him  ?  Nay,  then  do 
you  not  know  me ;  but  't  was  rare  fun  to  see 
the  dare-devil  in  those  gray  eyes  of  his.  He 
has  French  gold,  too,  and  mercy,  how  startled 
he  was  at  my  haphazard  shot.  'T  is  some 
Jacobite,  and  there  are  fierce  Whigs  at  North- 
ampton !  Lackaday,  the  poor  gentleman  may 
come  into  trouble,  I  must  warn  him." 

"  My  lady,  my  lady,"  protested  Alice,  and 
then  stood  aghast.  "  The  saints  help  us,"  she 
murmured,  "  there  she  runs  after  that  bold 
gallant,  like  a  village  lass,  and  if  the  earl  should 
see  her !  " 

But  generous-hearted  Lady  Clancarty  thought 
of  neither  Alice  nor  the  earl.  Light  of  foot  as 
any  fawn,  she  flew  over  the  green  after  the 
stranger's  retreating  figure,  for  he  had  turned 
in  another  direction  and  was  leading  a  black 
horse  by  the  bridle.  The  swift  run  and  the 
excitement  of  the  moment  brought  the  blood 

37 


My  Lady  Clancarty 

to  Betty's  cheeks,  and  she  panted  for  breath 
when  she  overtook  him. 

He  turned  with  a  smile.  "  What,  lass,"  he 
said  gayly,  "  hast  come  for  your  kiss  ?  " 

Lady  Clancarty  gasped  and  grew  crimson 
with  shame ;  then  drawing  herself  up  to  her 
full  height,  she  flashed  at  him  a  look  of  wither- 
ing scorn. 

"  You  mistake,  sir,"  she  said  haughtily,  "  you 
are  addressing  Lady  Clancarty." 

He  took  off  his  hat  and  the  long  plumes 
swept  the  ground  at  her  feet  as  he  made  her  a 
profound  obeisance. 

"  I  beseech  your  ladyship's  pardon,"  he  said, 
graceful  and  gracious  —  but  not  one  whit 
abashed,  "  my  eyes  were  dazzled  —  else  they 
would  have  made  no  such  mistake." 

But  Betty  would  not  be  appeased ;  like  a 
child  who  has  been  naughty  and  repented,  she 
tried  to  appear  as  if  it  had  not  been.  She  was 
cold  and  haughty. 

"  Sir,  I  would  merely  warn  you  to  be  less 
careless  of  your  French  gold  at  Northampton," 
she  said  ;  "  we  do  not  love  St.  Germain  here," 
and  with  a  courtesy  as  low  as  his  bow  she 
left  him. 

Left  him  staring  after  her  with  a  glow  in  his 

gray  eyes. 

.          .          •         .  •          •          • 

38 


In  the  floods  of  Althorpe 

Alice  Lynn  usually  slept  in  a  little  anteroom 
of  Lady  Betty's  bedchamber,  and  that  night 
as  she  lay  abed  she  was  awakened  suddenly. 
The  room  was  full  of  moonlight,  and  in  it 
stood  Lady  Betty  in  her  night-rail,  —  a  charm- 
ing figure,  with  softly  dishevelled  hair  about 
her  shoulders,  and  eyes  that  seemed  to  sparkle 
in  the  pale  duskiness  of  her  face.  The  tire- 
woman started  up  in  alarm. 

"  My  lady,  oh,  my  lady  ! "  she  cried,  "  are 
you  ill  ?  Has  aught  happened  ?  " 

"  Hush,  no,  no  !  "  whispered  Lady  Betty, 
with  a  soft  little  laugh  ;  "  but,  Alice,  did  n't 
you  notice  that  he  said  c  by  Saint  Patrick '  ?  " 

"  He  !  Who  ?  "  groaned  poor  Alice  sleepily. 

"  The  stranger,  little  goose  !  " 

"  Nay,  madam,"  said  the  poor  handmaid  ; 
"  I  noticed  naught  but  his  bold  eyes  ;  I  was 
afraid  of  him." 

"  Nonsense !  "  Lady  Betty  exclaimed  with 
a  gesture  of  impatience  ;  and  she  tripped  lightly 
to  the  window  and  stood  looking -out  over  the 
moonlit  park. 

Alice  yawned,  drawing  herself  together  on 
the  edge  of  her  bed  in  a  crumpled  attitude,  one 
pink  foot  swinging  near  the  floor ;  she  was 
fairly  nodding  with  sleep.  Not  so  her  mistress. 
Lady  Betty  brushed  the  soft  hair  from  her  face 

39 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

and  stood  in  the  moonlight  a  lovely  figure, 
half  revealed  and  half  concealed  by  thin  white 
draperies. 

"  I  wonder,"  she  said  musingly,  "  if —  if 
Clancarty  looks  at  all  like  this  man  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  tell,  madam,"  replied  Alice  de- 
murely ;  "  but  it  may  be  so." 

"  You  rogue  !  "  laughed  her  mistress,  "  you 
would  insinuate  that  two  rakes  may  well  re- 
semble each  other  !  Ah,  Alice,  he  is  my  hus- 
band, mind  you  that,  and  a  woman's  husband 
is  not  as  other  men." 

"  You  know  him  not  at  all,  my  lady,"  yawned 
Alice,  rubbing  her  eyes,  "  and  if  he 's  like 
some  —  " 

"  Fudge,  my  girl,  what  do  you  know  of  hus- 
bands ?  "  said  Betty  gayly  ;  "  I  believe  you  have 
never  even  glanced  out  of  the  tail  of  that  blue 
eye  of  yours  at  any  bold  gallant  yet." 

The  handmaid  sighed  sleepily. 

"  'T  is  better  so,  my  lady,"  she  said  meekly. 

"  The  parson  not  excepted  ! "  laughed  Lady 
Betty,  dancing  back  lightly  over  the  floor  and 
pinching  the  girl's  cheek  as  she  passed. 

"  Oh  !   that  my  hero  had  his  throne, 
That  Erin's  cloud  of  war  were  flown, 
That  proudest  prince  would  own  his  sway 
Over  the  hills  and  far  away  !  " 
40 


In  the  Woods  of  Althorpe 

sang  my  lady,  taking  dancing  steps  as  she 
tripped  toward  her  own  door;  she  was  full  of 
gayety,  incorrigible  and  delightful  as  ever, 
though  the  great  clock  on  the  stairs  was  strik- 
ing twelve.  But  Alice  sighed  drearily,  and  her 
mistress  heard  her. 

"  Poor  lass  !  "  she  laughed,  "  go  to  sleep ;  I 
am  a  heartless  wretch,"  and  she  ran  off  laugh- 
ing to  her  room,  and  Alice  sank  on  her  pillows 
again  with  a  sigh  of  despair. 


CHAPTER   V 

LADY    SUNDERLAND 

IT  was  at  night  too,  a  week  later,  that  Lady 
Betty's  coach  rumbled  up  the  long  street 
at  Newmarket.  But  no  moon  shone ; 
instead,  the  rain  came  down  in  torrents  and 
the  wind  dashed  it  against  the  glass  windows 
and  rattled  and  shook  the  heavy  doors,  while 
the  horses  slipped  and  floundered,  knee  deep 
in  mud  ;  the  great  coach  itself  lurched  heavily 
out  of  one  huge  rut  into  another,  and  the  pos- 
tilions, dripping  and  profane,  cracked  their 
whips  and  shouted.  Lady  Clancarty  and  her 
attendants,  Alice  Lynn  and  the  woman,  Me- 
lissa Thurle,  bounced  about  within  the  vehicle, 
coming  now  and  then  into  collision  with  end- 
less boxes  and  bundles,  a  part  only  of  the 
countess'  impedimenta,  the  most  perishable, 
and  therefore  gathered  within  the  carriage  to 
save  it  from  the  deluge,  instead  of  being 
strapped  on  top  with  the  heavier  luggage. 

Through  the  moist  darkness  lights  began  to 
twinkle.     As  they  neared  the  inn    these  lan- 


Lady  Sunderland 

terns  increased  in  numbers,  their  yellow  radi- 
ance dimmed  and  blurred  by  the  rain  but 
showing  in  a  broad  circle  of  warmth  before  the 
tavern  door.  There,  too,  the  water  flooding 
the  kennels  had  poured  out,  making  a  small 
lake  in  the  courtyard.  The  coach  went 
splashing  into  it  and  halted  with  muddy  water 
rising  to  the  hubs.  The  inn  door  was  open,  and 
the  hall  overflowed  with  noise  and  good  cheer ; 
lackeys  and  grooms  came  bustling  at  the  sound 
of  an  arrival ;  and  at  the  sight  of  a  private  car- 
riage, with  an  earl's  crest  emblazoned  upon  the 
door,  mine  host  himself  came  hurrying  forward 
but  stood  aghast  at  the  puddle. 

"  Here,  you  varlets,"  he  shouted,  clapping 
his  hands,  "a  plank  from  the  door  to  the  car- 
riage steps,  or  her  ladyship  cannot  descend." 

Her  ladyship's  roguish  face  was  at  the  win- 
dow as  he  spoke  and  she  watched  the  men 
placing  a  board  for  her.  As  they  opened  the 
coach  door  the  innkeeper  bowed  low,  his 
broad  back  in  the  air,  but  stepping  carefully 
on  the  plank  and  tottering  uneasily,  for  he 
was  a  stout  man  and  in  terror  of  falling  head- 
long into  the  flood. 

"  Who  have  I  the  honor  to  serve,  my  lady  ?  " 
he  inquired,  all  smiles  in  spite  of  his  perilous 
position. 

43 


My  Lady  Clancarty 

"  Venus  rising  from  the  waves,  sir,"  replied 
Lady  Betty  flippantly,  as  she  sprang  lightly 
across  the  improvised  bridge,  scarcely  touching 
his  shoulder  with  her  fingers  and  quite  regard- 
less of  his  open-mouthed  astonishment. 

"  Look  to  it  that  my  women  are  not 
drowned !  "  she  added  imperiously,  as  he  re- 
treated after  her,  leaving  her  attendants  to 
climb  out  unassisted. 

But  the  man  was  sorely  perplexed  by  her 
ladyship's  announcement  of  herself,  and  he 
only  stared  at  her,  trying  to  place  her  in  the 
gallery  of  a  fertile  brain  well  stored  with  great 
ladies  ;  but  this  face  —  albeit  one  of  the  most 
charming  he  had  ever  seen  —  was  not  among 
them,  and  he  stared,  perhaps  a  trifle  rudely, 
for  Lady  Betty's  eye,  suddenly  alighting  on 
him,  her  chin  went  up. 

"  You  will  show  me  to  my  Lady  Sunder- 
land's  apartments,"  she  said  in  an  icy  tone,  as 
she  waved  her  hand  toward  the  stair. 

In  a  moment  the  innkeeper's  supple  back 
bent  double  again  ;  he  threw  out  his  fat  hands 
and  stammered  a  hundred  apologies. 

"  Lady  Sunderland  did  not  look  for  your 
ladyship  until  to-morrow,"  he  sputtered,  hur- 
rying on  ahead,  while  Lady  Clancarty  followed, 
with  her  chin  still  scornfully  elevated,  her  two 

44 


Lady  Sunder/and 

weary  and  dishevelled  women  behind  her. 
"  The  countess  will  be  rejoiced  —  we  are  all 
rejoiced,  your  ladyship  ;  the  storm  was  so 
heavy,  the  roads  so  fearful,  we  scarcely  dared 
to  hope  that  your  carriage  would  reach  New- 
market to-night,"  continued  the  host,  all  smiles 
again,  rubbing  his  hands  and  flourishing  before 
her  ladyship. 

But  Lady  Betty  walked  on  in  silence,  scarce 
glancing  at  him  as  he  opened  a  door  and,  with 
many  flourishes  and  bows,  announced  her  at 
the  threshold  and  stood  aside,  still  bowing,  to 
let  her  pass  into  a  large,  well-lighted  room, 
where  a  bright  fire  burned  upon  the  hearth, 
great  logs  ablaze  upon  the  high,  polished  brass 
andirons.  The  dark  wood  floor  was  polished 
too,  reflecting  the  blaze,  and  in  a  great  chair 
by  the  fire  sat  a  woman  past  middle  age,  yet 
showing  little  of  her  years,  and  dressed  in  the 
extreme  affectation  of  a  youthful  fashion,  a 
petticoat  of  white  brocade,  which  was  short  in 
front  to  show  her  feet  in  white  and  gold  pan- 
toffles,  and  a  bodice  and  overdress  of  peachblow 
satin  ;  a  face  that  had  been  handsome  and  was 
now  much  rouged,  the  eyes  brightened  by 
dark  rings  beneath  them,  while  her  hair  —  or 
her  periwig  —  was  frizzed  full  at  the  sides 
after  a  fashion  much  in  vogue  in  the  time  of 

45 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

Charles  the  Second.  Her  throat  was  covered 
with  jewels,  and  her  hands  and  arms  ;  on  either 
side  of  her  stood  two  young  men  of  fashion, 
beaux  of  Newmarket,  in  gay  velvet  coats  and 
ruffles  of  lace,  and  long  curled  and  scented 
French  periwigs,  white  satin  breeches  and  silk 
stockings,  and  slippers  with  high  red  heels, 
then  much  in  favor  at  Versailles. 

It  was  a  group  that  amused  Lady  Clancarty, 
—  the  great  lady  and  her  two  youthful  admir- 
ers, for  Betty  knew  her  mother  well.  They  in 
their  turn  stared  a  little  at  the  traveller's  unex- 
pected advent,  and  for  a  moment  no  one  spoke. 
There  was  a  strange  contrast  between  the 
painted  and  bejewelled  countess  and  her  daugh- 
ter :  Lady  Clancarty  wore  a  long,  dark  riding- 
coat  with  capes,  her  full  skirts  trailing  below  the 
coat,  and  her  hat  —  a  large  one  with  plumes  — 
set  over  her  brows.  The  cool  damp  night  air 
had  brought  the  freshness  of  a  rose  to  her  cheeks 
and  her  eyes  sparkled  as  she  viewed  the  party 
by  the  fire,  and  made  her  mother  a  courtesy. 

"  I  have  been  in  the  deluge,  madam,"  she 
said  gayly.  "  Faith  !  I  had  expected  to  be 
drowned,  but  lo !  our  ark  landed  here,  and 
here  am  I  —  a  dove  with  an  olive  branch,  in 
fact  —  for  I  come  with  kind  messages  from 
Althorpe  for  your  ladyship." 

46 


Lady  Sunderland 

"  My  dear  Betty,"  said  Lady  Sunderland, 
recovering  from  her  amazement,  "  I  am  de- 
lighted ;  come  and  kiss  me,  my  love,  and  here 
—  my  Lord  Savile  and  Mr.  Benham,  this  is 
my  daughter,  Lady  Elizabeth  Spencer." 

The  young  men  bowed  profoundly,  Lord 
Savile's  bold  eyes  on  Lady  Betty's  face,  for  he 
saw  it  flush  with  sudden  indignation. 

"  My  mother's  memory  plays  her  false," 
she  said  coldly,  scarcely  acknowledging  their 
greetings  ;  "  I  am  the  Countess  of  Clancarty." 

Lady  Sunderland  laughed  angrily  but  pre- 
tended to  be  merry. 

"  The  child  is  foolish  about  a  trifle,"  she 
said,  winking  behind  her  fan  at  young  Savile. 
"We  can  afford  to  humor  her  whims,  my  lord; 
we  will  call  her  Lady  Clancarty." 

"  We  shall  call  her  ladyship  divine,  if  she 
wills  it,"  replied  Lord  Savile,  with  a  smile  at 
Betty ;  "  it  is  all  one  to  us  as  long  as  she  is 
pleased." 

Lady  Clancarty's  foot  tapped  the  floor  im- 
patiently and  there  was  a  dangerous  sparkle 
in  her  eyes.  Lady  Sunderland  observed  her 
uneasily. 

"  My  love,  you  are  tired,"  she  said,  mildly 
solicitous,  "  sit  down  and  let  me  send  for  a  cup 
of  tea ;  Mr.  Benham  —  ah,  my  lord,  thank 

47 


My  Lady  C  lane  arty 

you,  yes,  the  bell  —  a  dish  of  tea  for  Lady 
Spen  —  Lady  Clancarty.  There  —  there,  my 
dear,  don't  frown  at  me;  it  is  all  quite  ridicu- 
lous !  Mr.  Benham  will  arrange  the  cushions 
in  that  chair  for  you ;  I  don't  know  what  I 
should  do  without  him!  We  were  playing 
gleek,  Betty,  when  you  were  announced." 

Betty  was  now  ensconced  in  an  armchair  by 
the  fire,  her  little  feet  on  the  cushion  that  Mr. 
Benham  had  placed  for  her ;  and  she  viewed  the 
situation  with  an  expression  more  composed. 

"  Yes,  I  take  tea,"  she  said  to  Lord  Savile, 
who  was  handing  her  a  smoking  cup,  "  and 
what  is  this  ?  "  she  added,  for  he  had  managed 
to  drop  a  flower  from  his  buttonhole  into  her 
lap  with  an  air  of  gallantry. 

"A  poor  blossom,"  he  said  gracefully,  "to 
compare  with  such  a  rose  as  blooms  here 
to-night." 

Lady  Betty  looked  at  him  and  then  at  the 
flower  curiously. 

"Ah,"  she  said  calmly  sipping  her  tea,  "it 
is  a  rose —  I  thought  't  was  a  thistle!  " 

Lady  Sunderland  coughed  and  dropped  her 
fan  and  frowned  at  her  daughter;  but  the 
incorrigible  countess  did  not  glance  in  her 
direction.  She  was  smiling  blandly  at  the  fire 
and  warming  first  one  foot  and  then  the  other. 

48 


Lady  Sunder/and 

"  You  are  from  Althorpe  ?  "  Mr.  Benham 
asked,  smiling  at  the  beauty,  for  he  was  not 
displeased  at  Lord  Savile's  discomfiture ;  "  and 
my  friend,  Spencer,  is  there  now." 

"  He  is  indeed,"  replied  Betty,  with  a  sigh, 
"  and  may  he  stay  there ! "  she  added  men- 
tally ;  but  to  Mr.  Benham,  "  Has  the  king 
come  ?  " 

"  He  came  yesterday,  and  with  him,  Lord 
Albemarle ;  the  Princess  Anne  is  here  too, 
and  my  Lady  Marlborough." 

"  Dear  me,"  said  Lady  Betty,  with  an  un- 
concealed yawn,  "the  world  is  here,  it  seems, 
and  I  am  so  weary  that  I  must  crave  your 
ladyship's  license  to  retire." 

"  Nay,"  said  Mr.  Benham  gallantly,  "  it  is 
my  lord  and  I  who  should  retire  and  permit 
your  ladyship  to  rest." 

"I  protest!"  cried  Lady  Sunderland ;  "the 
gleek  was  but  half  played." 

But  she  made  no  great  effort  to  detain  them ; 
indeed,  she  wanted  an  opportunity  to  speak 
plainly  to  her  daughter,  so  the  beaux  were 
allowed  to  bow  themselves  out,  with  more  than 
one  lingering  glance  at  the  beautiful,  haughty 
face  by  the  fireside.  No  sooner  was  the  door 
closed,  however,  than  Lady  Sunderland  turned 
on  her  daughter. 

4  49 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

"Your  folly  passes  belief,  Elizabeth,"  she 
said  tartly,  quite  oblivious  of  the  two  attendants 
quietly  waiting  in  the  background ;  "  I  am 
tired  of  the  name  of  Clancarty;  your  father 
and  I  intend  to  divorce  the  rascal.  To  parade 
the  matter  as  you  do  is  simply  childish,  my 
love,  quite  childish." 

Lady  Betty  sipped  her  tea  and  looked  into 
the  fire. 

"  I  am  not  divorced,"  she  remarked  placidly, 
"  and  Lord  Clancarty,  being  a  Romanist,  may 
object  to  divorces." 

Lady  Sunderland  laughed  unpleasantly,  tap- 
ping her  fan  on  the  arm  of  her  chair. 

"  Lord  Clancarty  has  probably  never  re- 
spected his  marriage,"  she  remarked,  in  a 
biting  tone,  though  she  smiled;  "you  are  very 
childish,  Elizabeth,  for  your  years." 

"  I  am  quite  advanced,"  her  daughter  re- 
plied, rising  and  setting  her  cup  on  the  table 
where  the  cards  were  scattered,  "and  perhaps 
I  am  too  old  to  think  of  divorces." 

"Nonsense,"  Lady  Sunderland  said  frown- 
ing, "  your  father  and  I  mean  to  see  you  well 
married  when  we  are  rid  of  this  Irish  nuisance." 

"Indeed,"  said  Lady  Betty  coldly,  elevating 
her  brows,  "  to  whom  ?  My  Lord  Savile,  for 
instance,  or  Mr,  Benham  ? " 

5° 


Lady  Sunderland 

"  You  might  do  worse,"  retorted  Lady  Sun- 
derland stiffly  ;  "  they  are  both  fine  young  men 
and  in  favor  at  court." 

"  Precisely,"  said  Lady  Betty,  "  and  't  is 
strange  that  my  taste  is  so  perverted.  Dear 
madam,  I  bid  you  good-night.  We  will  dis- 
cuss their  excellencies  later;  now  I  am  perish- 
ing with  sleep,"  and  she  dropped  her  mother 
a  courtesy  and  slipped  out  of  the  room,  leaving 
the  older  countess  frowning  and  biting  her 
lips,  the  rouge  showing  red  on  her  cheeks. 

But  once  alone  with  Alice  Lynn,  Betty 
laughed,  with  tears  shining  in  her  eyes. 

"Ah,  the  trap  is  set,  Alice,  dear,"  she  said> 
"  the  trap  is  set,  if  only  this  poor  little  mouse 
will  nibble  at  the  cheese ! " 


CHAPTER  VI 

LADY  BETTY'S  TOILET 

NIGHT  and  the  rain  departed  together. 
The  wind  had  swept  the  sky  clear, 
not  even  a  white  feather  curled  there  ; 
it  was  blue  —  blue  as  English  skies  seldom  are. 
Lady  Betty,  opening  her  own  window  shutter, 
looked  up  and  smiled,  and  then  looked  down 
into  the  courtyard  of  the  inn.  The  waters 
were  subsiding,  and  the  uneven  flagging  showed 
muddy,  wet  and  glistening  in  the  sunlight. 
To  the  left  lay  the  stables,  where  she  could 
occasionally  hear  a  horse  neigh  or  stamp  an 
impatient  foot.  To  the  right  the  court  was 
railed  off  by  an  old  balustrade  of  gray  stone, 
mossy  and  green  with  age  and  opening  in  the 
centre  with  two  vases  on  either  side  filled  with 
geraniums  and  mignonette.  Between  these, 
steps  descended  into  an  old  garden,  laid  out  in 
quaint  flower-beds,  surrounded  with  rows  of 
box  that  hedged  in  the  winding  gravel  paths 
and  grew  high  as  a  man's  head.  It  was  Sep- 

52 


Lady  Betty  s  Toilet 

tember,  but  many  flowers  bloomed  there  be- 
sides the  roses ;  though  it  was  but  poorly 
tended  at  this  late  season,  it  was  still  a  spot  of 
beauty  for  the  guests  of  the  tavern  to  look 
upon,  and  there  was  a  restful  air  about  it,  a 
fragrance  and  quaintness,  with  the  early  sun- 
shine on  it.  It  was  so  early,  indeed,  that  the 
garden  was  deserted,  and  only  the  stable-boys 
were  stirring  and  the  servants  running  to  and 
fro  across  the  court  engaged  in  preparations  for 
breakfast.  Here  and  there  was  a  red-coated 
hostler,  and  one  of  these  was  leading  a  black 
horse  up  and  down.  The  horse  had  just  been 
unsaddled  and  was  heated  from  hard  riding. 
There  was  mud  on  his  flanks,  too,  which  was 
natural  enough  after  the  storm,  and  there  were 
flecks  of  foam  upon  his  breast.  Lady  Betty 
looked  at  him  long  and  pensively,  noting  that 
the  bridle  was  not  of  English  make ;  the  man, 
too,  who  had  him,  was  a  stranger,  for  the  other 
hostlers  did  not  speak  to  him,  and  his  broad, 
humorous  face  and  twinkling  black  eyes  were 
quite  un-English.  He  was  a  short  man,  with 
bowed  legs  and  a  bulky  frame,  plainly  dressed 
as  the  plainest  groom  of  a  gentleman  could  be, 
and  yet  these  two,  the  horse  and  man,  held 
Lady  Betty's  attention  long  —  so  long,  indeed, 
that  she  did  not  notice  the  soft  opening  of  a 

53 


My  Lady  Clancarty 

door,  or  the  soft  tread  on  the  floor  behind  her, 
and  started  to  find  Melissa  Thurle  at  her 
elbow. 

The  woman  had  a  smooth  face  and  pale  eyes 
that  squinted  like  those  of  a  near-sighted  per- 
son, though  she  was  not  short-sighted.  She 
moved,  too,  as  softly  as  a  cat,  and  her  manners 
were  always  apologetic,  humbly  ingratiating; 
she  cringed  a  little  now  under  Lady  Betty's 
eye. 

"  Where  is  Alice  ? "  Lady  Clancarty  de- 
manded sharply. 

"  Her  ladyship,  your  mother,  sent  for  her," 
Melissa  said  gently ;  "  her  tirewoman  is  ill  to- 
day, and  Lady  Sunderland  sent  to  your  rooms 
for  one." 

"  Why  did  Alice  go  ? "  asked  Lady  Betty 
imperiously.  "  You  know  you  cannot  do  my 
hair;  besides,  you  would  suit  my  mother  exactly. 
Why  did  you  stay  here  ? " 

Melissa  looked  down  meekly.  "  My  lady, 
the  countess  sent  for  Alice  Lynn,"  she  replied. 

Lady  Betty's  brows  went  up.  "  Strange," 
she  remarked  ;  "  we  all  know  that  she  will  not 
be  up  until  eleven,  —  why  Alice  now?  I  can- 
not do  without  Alice." 

"  I  will  do  my  best,  my  lady,"  Melissa  said, 
with  a  deprecating  purr ;  "  if  you  will  but  choose 

54 


Lady  Betty  s  Toilet 

your  costume  for  the  races  I  can  surely  arrange 
everything  for  you  quite  as  well  as  Alice,  and 
indeed  your  ladyship  needs  no  very  skilful 
tirewoman ;  where  there  is  so  much  beauty 
there  is  no  need  for  much  skill." 

Betty  eyed  the  woman  with  a  distinct  feeling 
of  repugnance  and  yet  thought  herself  unjust. 

"  Go  fetch  me  a  dish  of  tea,"  she  said  lan- 
guidly, "  and  I  will  think  about  to-day.  Dear 
me,  what  a  bore  it  is  to  wear  clothes ;  if  only 
one  had  feathers  !  " 

Melissa  stared  but  went  to  fetch  the  tea,  a 
luxury  much  affected  by  the  rich,  for  tea-drink- 
ing came  into  fashion  at  the  East  India  houses 
in  the  time  of  Charles  the  Second. 

Lady  Betty  did  not  wish  the  tea ;  however, 
she  wanted  to  be  rid  of  Melissa,  and  she  went 
back  to  the  window  and  looked  out  eagerly. 
The  black  horse  and  groom  were  both  gone, 
and  she  turned  away  disappointed. 

Two  hours  later,  Alice  being  still  with  Lady 
Sunderland,  Melissa  Thurle  dressed  Lady 
Clancarty  for  the  gala  day  at  the  Newmarket 
races.  And  a  wonderful  work  it  was  to  dress 
a  belle  in  those  days  of  brocaded  farthingales 
and  long,  narrow-waisted  bodices,  and  heads 
covered  with  many  waves  and  puffs  and  ringlets. 
It  was  not  then  the  fashion  to  powder  the  hair, 

55 


My  Lady  Clancarty 

and  Lady  Betty's  beautiful  glossy  black  tresses 
curled  naturally,  so  that  Melissa's  task  was  not 
the  most  difficult.  The  mass  of  soft,  wavy  hair 
was  knotted  low  on  the  back  of  the  head  and 
escaped  in  curls  about  the  brow  and  cheeks  and 
fell  upon  the  neck,  while  one  or  two  black 
patches  on  brow  and  cheek  were  supposed  to 
enhance  the  whiteness  of  the  complexion. 
Melissa  was  skilful  enough,  in  spite  of  her 
mistress'  prejudices,  and  her  deft  fingers  ar- 
ranged the  curls,  letting  some  escape  in  coquet- 
tish waves  and  ringlets  and  binding  others 
back  into  the  loose  knot,  which  still  allowed 
them  to  ripple  in  a  lovely  confusion. 

Lady  Betty  sat,  meanwhile,  before  a  dress- 
ing-table, furnished  with  a  small  oval  glass  in 
which  she  could  not  only  watch  Melissa,  but 
could  observe,  also,  every  curve  and  dimple  of 
her  own  charming  face.  Whether  its  reflec- 
tion really  satisfied  her,  or  she  had  other  and 
more  fruitful  sources  of  content,  can  only  be 
conjectured,  but  certain  it  is  that  she  smiled 
a  little  and  bore  the  tirewoman's  deft  touches 
with  apparent  complacence.  Melissa,  encour- 
aged by  her  expression,  began  to  talk  to  her 
in  a  soft  purring  fashion  as  she  worked. 

"  The  house  is  full,  my  lady,"  she  said, 
"  't  is  all  agog  below  stairs  now,  and  't  is  said 

56 


Lady  Betty  s  Toilet 

there  are  two  dukes,  an  earl,  and  five  baronets 
under  this  roof,  besides  the  countess  and  your 
ladyship." 

"  Dear  me,"  said  Lady  Betty,  "  who  are 
all  these  great  people,  and  when  did  they 
come? " 

"  The  Duke  of  Bedford  has  been  here  two 
days,  my  lady,"  replied  the  newscarrier,  "  and 
the  Duke  of  Ormond  came  yesterday  ;  Mr. 
Godolphin,  too,  and  Lord  Wharton,  —  the 
others  ?  —  I  know  not  when  they  came." 

"Who  came  this  morning?"  asked  her 
mistress  carelessly,  at  the  same  moment  turn- 
ing her  head  to  admire  a  new  knot  that  Me- 
lissa had  made  of  her  hair. 

The  tirewoman  stopped,  comb  in  hand,  and 
admired  too,  her  narrow  eyes  more  narrow 
than  usual. 

"This  morning  ?  "  she  repeated  thoughtfully, 
"  I  cannot  think,  —  oh,  yes,  one  of  the  house- 
maids told  me  that  a  stranger  came  late,  on  a 
black  horse  that  he  had  ridden  hard." 

Lady  Clancarty  listened  attentively,  forget- 
ting to  appear  indifferent,  and  unconscious  of 
the  peculiar  vigilance  of  Melissa's  pale  eyes. 

"  The  horse  was  in  the  yard  this  morning 
and  showed  hard  riding,"  she  said  thought- 
fully. "  Who  was  the  stranger,  Melissa  ?  " 

57 


My  Lady  C  lane  arty 

"  'T  is  said  he  is  a  horse  jockey  from  Lon- 
don," purred  the  tirewoman. 

Her  mistress  darted  a  searching  look  at  her 
but  read  nothing  in  that  smooth  face  that  was 
by  nature  as  placid  as  a  platter. 

"  Bring  me  my  pale  blue  paduasoy  petti- 
coat, Thurle,"  Lady  Betty  said,  sharply  im- 
perious, "  and  my  white  and  silver  brocaded 
gown,  and  the  mantle  of  silver  lace,  and  my 
hat  with  the  white  plumes.  Do  you  not  know 
how  to  fasten  a  petticoat  ?  —  there  —  so  !  — 
and,  stupid,  my  white  silk  stockings  with  the 
blue  clocks,  and  the  French  slippers  with  blue 
enamel  buckles,"  and  she  made  the  woman 
fetch  garment  after  garment  with  alacrity,  and 
the  glow  in  her  cheeks  would  have  warned 
even  a  less  observant  person  than  Melissa  that 
Lady  Clancarty  was  out  of  temper. 

But  the  woman's  smooth  manner  remained 
unruffled,  and  not  even  angry  words  made  her 
ringers  quiver.  She  arrayed  Lady  Clancarty 
from  head  to  foot,  deftly  and  swiftly,  and  when 
the  task  was  completed,  and  the  beauty  looked 
at  her  own  reflection,  a  smile  was  forced  to 
play  about  her  lips,  for  never  had  a  mirror 
reflected  a  vision  more  charming.  Lady  Betty, 
with  her  rich  coloring,  her  full  white  throat, 
her  perfect  form,  clad  in  a  marvellous  gown  of 

58 


Lady  Betty  s  Toilet 

white  and  silver,  ruffled  and  ruffled  with  lace, 
and  looped  up  at  one  side  a  little  to  show  the 
blue  petticoat ;  open,  too,  to  show  a  neck  as 
white  as  snow,  —  and  arms  to  match  were  half 
revealed  by  the  elbow  sleeves,  while  her  hat 
cast  a  shadow  on  those  sparkling  eyes.  She 
gave  the  vision  a  look  and  then  turned  and 
motioned  Melissa  away. 

"You  have  done  very  well,  Thurle,"  she 
said  calmly,  "  and  now  you  may  go  —  ah,  here 
is  Alice  !  "  and  she  relented  at  the  sight  of  her 
favorite  attendant. 

Melissa,  meanwhile,  humble  as  usual,  cour- 
tesied  and  withdrew,  but  not  without  casting  a 
lingering  look  behind  her. 

When  the  door  closed,  Lady  Betty  gave  her 
gown  a  few  touches,  turning  around  before  the 
mirror  again. 

"  Will  I  do,  Alice  ?  "  she  asked. 

"Supremely  well,  madam,"  Alice  replied 
soberly,  standing  off  to  view  her  with  a  critical 
eye. 

Lady  Betty  turned  suddenly  and  laid  her 
hand  on  the  girl's  shoulder. 

"  Hast  said  thy  catechism,  Alice  ?  "  she 
asked. 

The  handmaid  looked  up  at  her  blankly, 
her  slower  mind  struggling  to  understand. 

59 


My  Lady  C  lane  arty 

"  What,  my  lady  ?" 

"Your  catechism,  goosie,"  repeated  Lady 
Clancarty  laughing;  "  did  not  my  mother  ques- 
tion you  close  of  me  ?  " 

"  She  did,  madam,"  retorted  Alice  bluntly, 
with  an  ingenuous  blush,  "  she  asked  me  many 
questions." 

"  And  what  answer  did  you  give  ?  "  asked 
her  mistress  smiling. 

"  Truthful  answers,  dear  Lady  Betty,"  Alice 
replied  earnestly,  apparently  much  troubled, 
"  save  when  I  answered  not  at  all." 

"  You  did  not  answer !  "  exclaimed  her  mis- 
tress, in  surprise,  "  and  wherefore  ?  " 

"  Because  she  asked  me  what  you  said  to 
me  of —  of  my  Lord  Clancarty,"  stammered 
Alice,  "  and,  madam,  that  I  will  not  tell !  " 

Betty  laughed  and  blushed,  and  suddenly 
she  kissed  the  girl. 


60 


CHAPTER   VII 

AT    THE    RACES 

THERE  was  no  finer  race-course  in  the 
country  in  those  days  than  the  long 
heath  at  Newmarket,  and  there  for 
years  the  court  of  England  kept  festival. 
Charles  the  Second  came  there,  with  a  train 
of  gay  and  dissolute  courtiers  and  fair,  frail 
women ;  there  too  came  the  more  solemn 
James  with  much  the  same  following,  if  a  more 
decorous  manner  prevailed,  and  there  came 
that  silent,  collected,  small  man,  whose  body 
so  little  expressed  his  soul,  —  one  of  the  greatest 
men  of  his  time,  —  William  the  Third. 

The  king  came  to  his  summer  palace,  and 
the  great  lords  kept  up  their  state  about  him. 
Euston  was  famed  for  the  balls  of  my  Lord 
Arlington  in  the  days  of  Charles  the  Second, 
and  times  were  little  changed  in  that  respect. 
In  contrast  to  the  courtly  splendor,  the  heath 
was  fringed  with  an  encampment  as  gay  and 
varied  as  any  gypsy  gathering.  Here  were 

61 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

people  of  all  conditions :  gypsies,  in  fact,  in 
their  gay  raiment,  telling  fortunes  on  the  edge 
of  the  throng,  strolling  players,  dancing  bears 
and  merry  Andrews,  and  the  farmers'  families 
come  as  to  a  festival  to  see  the  stream  of 
fashion.  For  here  were  all  the  great ;  even  the 
cock-pit  at  noon  was  surrounded  by  stars  and 
ribbons,  and  there  were  hunting  and  hawking 
and  riding.  There  too  were  the  long  gowns 
and  black  caps  of  the  University  dons,  so  well 
received  by  William,  mingling  with  the  motley 
throng.  The  world,  melted  down  mto  this 
little  space,  throbbed  and  bubbled  like  a  caul- 
dron filled  and  boiling  over,  and  never  paused 
except  for  the  sermon  on  a  Sunday. 

At  midday  when  the  king  went  to  the  race- 
course all  Newmarket  streamed  out  at  his  heels, 
from  the  highest  peers  and  greatest  courtiers  to 
the  pickpockets  of  London ;  from  my  Lord 
of  Devonshire  to  Captain  Dick  the  horse 
jockey  ;  from  an  orange  girl  of  Drury  Lane 
to  the  Princess  of  Denmark  ;  the  high  and 
the  low,  the  rich  man  and  the  cutpurse,  all 
were  there,  and  in  that  mass  of  many-colored 
costumes,  like  a  bed  of  King  William's  tulips  at 
Loo,  there  were  a  thousand  emotions, —  hopes, 
fears,  hatreds,  and  ambitions.  Money  flowed 
like  water,  and  wagers  ran  high  ;  fortunes  were 

62 


At  the  Races 

made  and  unmade,  and  the  faces  of  men  and 
women  had  often  the  tense  expression  of  the 
gambler.  But  whatever  evil  was  there  —  and 
much  there  was  —  was  hidden  under  an  air  of 
jollity,  and  the  setting  of  the  scene  was  as 
variegated  as  a  rainbow. 

The  long  course  was  cleared  for  the  horses, 
and  on  either  side,  and  especially  about  the 
pavilion  of  the  king,  the  crowd  was  packed 
close,  palpitating  and  murmuring  in  the  sun- 
shine, white  and  pink,  blue  and  crimson,  green 
and  gold,  ribbon  upon  ribbon  of  color,  men 
and  women  vying  with  each  other  in  the  bril- 
liant beauty  and  richness  of  apparel ;  and  behind, 
the  great  emblazoned  coaches  —  drawn  usually 
by  Flanders  horses  —  stood  tier  upon  tier, 
sometimes  empty,  when  their  owners  were 
promenading,  sometimes  brimful  of  lovely 
smiling  faces  and  fluttering  fans ;  and  beyond 
these,  the  farmers  and  teamsters,  gypsies  and 
tipsters,  honest  men  and  thieves.  Meanwhile 
the  jockeys  rode  their  horses  out  upon  the 
turf  for  exercise  and  inspection  ;  no  people 
loved  a  fine  horse  better  than  the  English,  and 
it  put  the  throng  in  an  excellent  humor. 

In  the  midst  of  the  satins  and  velvets,  goldlace 
and  jewels,  one  small  man  was  plainly  dressed  in 
dark  colors  with  a  star  upon  his  breast,  —  a 

63 


My  Lady  C  lane  arty 

man  with  a  pale,  dark  face  and  sparkling  dark 
eyes.  Every  head  was  bared  before  him,  and 
every  great  dame  there  courtesied  almost  to 
the  ground,  and  the  trumpets  sounded  as  King 
William  took  his  place.  The  warm  September 
air  was  filled  with  the  hum  of  many  voices,  the 
trampling  of  horses,  the  blare  of  military  music, 
and  the  great  races  began  when  the  king  quietly 
waved  his  hand. 

Lady  Sunderland  kept  her  seat  in  her  own 
carriage,  and  all  the  old  beaux  of  the  court 
came  there  to  pay  their  compliments  and  ex- 
change rare  morsels  of  gossip  with  her  lady- 
ship, whose  wit  was  keen  as  her  tongue  was 
merciless.  But  Lady  Clancarty  was  not  of  this 
party.  She  had  left  her  seat  in  the  gorgeously 
emblazoned  coach,  and  escorted  by  my  Lord 
of  Devonshire  himself,  she  made  her  way  nearer 
to  the  scene  of  action.  Though  she  had  lived 
much  at  Althorpe,  Lady  Clancarty  was  not  un- 
known, and  she  was  greeted  on  every  hand  as 
she  passed.  Her  beauty,  her  winning  address, 
the  place  her  father  occupied  in  the  king's  favor, 
made  her  at  once  the  cynosure  of  all  eyes.  Old 
beaux  and  young  ones  crowded  forward  for  an 
introduction.  Devonshire  stood  near  her, 
Ormond  and  Bedford  joined  her  coterie ;  in 
fact,  in  two  hours  Lady  Betty  was  the  belle  of 

64 


At  the  Races 

Newmarket.  She  looked  about  her  smiling, 
roguish,  keenly  amused,  and  everywhere  she 
read  approbation  and  admiration,  not  only  in 
the  faces  that  she  knew,  but  in  the  strange 
ones.  Everywhere  men  paid  her  homage ; 
over  there  the  courtiers  of  the  Princess  Anne 
were  thinning  out ;  the  circle  of  my  Lady  Marl- 
borough  grew  narrower,  but  Lady  Betty's  ex- 
tended like  a  whirlpool.  In  the  midst  of  her 
little  triumph,  she  saw  a  tall  man  coming  toward 
her,  singling  her  out  amidst  all  the  others ;  his 
dress  was  plain  and  his  periwig  was  of  a  differ- 
ent fashion,  but  she  could  not  mistake  that  eye 
or  that  bearing ;  she  had  seen  both  in  the 
woods  of  Althorpe.  In  a  moment  more  he 
was  bowing  before  her,  and  Ormond  introduced 
him. 

"  My  dear  Lady  Betty,  let  me  present 
another  admirer,  Mr.  Richard  Trevor;  an 
Irishman  as  I  would  have  your  ladyship  know," 
the  duke  added  in  her  ear,  with  a  laugh. 

Lady  Clancarty  courtesied,  casting  a  roguish 
look  at  the  stranger. 

"  Faith,  we  have  met  before,  my  lord,"  she 
said,  and  laughed  softly. 

"  Twice  before,  my  lady,"  corrected  Mr. 
Trevor,  smiling  into  her  eyes. 

Betty  stared.     "  Once,  sir,"  she  said. 
5  65 


My  Lady  C  lane  arty 

"  As  you  will,  Lady  Clancarty,"  he  replied, 
and  smiled  again,  the  dare-devil  leaping  up  in 
his  gray  eyes — and  Betty  blushed. 

At  the  moment  Lord  Savile  came  up  with 
Mr.  Benham. 

"  Are  you  betting,  Savile  ?  "  asked  the  Duke 
of  Devonshire,  with  a  smiling  glance  at  the 
young  man. 

Savile  made  a  wry  face. 

"  Confound  it,  my  lord,  I  Ve  lost  fifty 
pounds  on  my  mare,  Lady  Clara,"  he  said, 
"  and  Benham  here  has  made  a  hundred  on 
that  little  black  mare  of  Godolphin's,  —  the 
devil 's  in  it." 

"  Ah,  look  at  them  !  "  cried  Betty,  pointing 
at  the  track,  "  they  come  flying  like  birds.  Is 
that  your  black  mare  in  the  lead,  Mr.  Ben- 
ham  ?  " 

"  I  '11  hang  for  it,  if  he  has  n't  won  again," 
ejaculated  Lord  Savile,  as  they  leaned  forward 
to  watch  the  squad  of  horses  coming  in  on  the 
home  stretch. 

There  could  scarcely  be  a  finer  sight :  the 
smooth  turf,  the  shimmer  of  sunshine,  the 
beautiful  animals  running  fleetly,  for  the  joy 
of  it,  heads  out,  eyes  flashing  fire,  foam  on 
the  lips,  and  manes  flying,  while  the  jockeys, 
like  knots  of  color,  hung  low  over  their  necks. 

66 


At  the  Races 

The  sharp  clip  of  steel-shod  feet,  a  stream  of 
color,  sparks  flying,  and  they  were  past,  going 
on  to  the  stakes,  while  silence  fell  on  the  great 
throng  of  people  ;  men  scarcely  breathed,  every 
eye  strained  after  them.  Then  suddenly  a  shout 
of  exultation  and  despair,  strangely  mingled, 
and  the  whole  crowd  blossoming  out  into  a  mass 
of  waving  handkerchiefs  and  tossing  hats. 

"  Ah,  was  there  ever  anything  so  pretty  !  " 
cried  Lady  Betty ;  "  there  is  nothing  finer  than 
a  beautiful  horse." 

"  Except  a  beautiful  woman,"  said  my  Lord 
of  Ormond  gallantly. 

"  Pray,  my  lord,  do  not  put  us  in  the  same 
category,"  said  Lady  Betty  laughing;  "'tis 
said  that  some  men  rate  their  horses  dearer 
than  their  wives." 

"  That  is  because  there  are  so  few  Lady 
Clancartys,"  replied  Ormond  smiling,  and 
Betty  swept  him  a  courtesy. 

"  Benham  's  won  again,"  remarked  Savile, 
too  chagrined  to  notice  anything  else. 

"  And  so  have  I,"  said  Mr.  Trevor,  with  a 
little  smile;  "'tis  an  ill  wind  that  blows  nobody 
good." 

Savile  eyed  him  from  head  to  foot ;  his 
quick  ear  had  detected  a  peculiarity  of  voice 
and  accent. 

67 


My  Lady  Clan  car ty 

"Are  you  from  Ireland,  sir?"  he  asked 
insolently. 

"Where  gentlemen  are  bred,  —  yes,  my 
lord,"  replied  Trevor,  his  gray  eyes  gleaming 
like  steel. 

Lady  Betty  stirred  uneasily.  "  Whose  horse 
was  that  which  came  in  last  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Savile's,"  laughed  Benham,  "  don't  you 
see  his  brow  of  thunder?  " 

"  Hard  luck,  my  boy,"  remarked  Lord 
Devonshire,  smiling,  "  but  there  are  many 
here  who  will  have  worse  to-day." 

"  Ay,  and  the  king's  cough  is  worse,"  re- 
marked Ormond  significantly. 

"  Dr.  Radcliffe  told  him  that  he  would  not 
have  his  two  legs  for  his  three  kingdoms,"  said 
Lord  Savile,  with  a  sullen  laugh. 

Devonshire  smiled  a  little  and  so  did  Or- 
mond, but  Lady  Betty  looked  straight  before 
her  over  the  sunny  turf. 

"  My  Lord  Savile,"  she  said,  "  the  king  has 
the  wisest  head  in  Europe." 

"  A  king  is  richest  in  the  hearts  that  love 
him,"  said  Richard  Trevor  smoothly,  "  and 
the  King  of  England  is  rich  in  these." 

Lady  Betty  darted  a  quick  glance  at  him, 
and  so  did  my  Lord  of  Ormond,  but  they  read 
nothing.  It  was  a  handsome,  daring  face,  with 

68 


At  the  Races 

gray  eyes  and  thin   lips,  —  a   face  to   fear  in 
anger. 

"  There  are  riddles  and  innuendoes  every- 
where," remarked  Lord  Savile  with  a  shrug  ; 
"  one  knows  not  how  to  read  them." 

"  What  I  say,  I  am  quite  ready  to  explain, 
my  lord,"  Trevor  replied  smiling,  his  eyes 
hard  as  flint. 

As  he  spoke  my  Lady  Sunderland  came  up 
from  her  carriage,  and  with  her  two  other  dames 
of  fashion.  In  the  stir  and  flutter  of  their 
entrance,  Lady  Betty  and  the  two  young  men, 
Trevor  and  Lord  Savile,  were,  to  all  intents 
and  purposes,  alone,  and  she  was  perforce  a 
listener  to  their  talk,  which  was  by  no  means 
friendly. 

Lord  Savile  thrust  his  hands  into  his  pockets. 

"  What  flowers  bloom  at  Saint  Germain, 
sir  ?  "  he  asked,  with  a  drawl. 

"  The  poppies  of  Neerwinden,  I  am  told," 
replied  the  Irishman. 

Lord  Savile's  face  turned  scarlet.  "  A  very 
vile  joke,  sir,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice,  "  and 
one  you  may  repent  of —  here  !  " 

"When  I  am  in  the  society  of  informers - 
it   may  be  so,"   replied  Trevor  haughtily  and 
very  low,  intending  it  only  for  my  lord's  ear, 
but  Lady  Betty  heard  it. 

69 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

"  I  would  fain  walk  a  little  way,"  she  said 
suddenly,  turning  on  them,  "  they  will  not 
race  again  for  half  an  hour,  and  I  feel  the  heat 
here.  My  Lord  Savile,  will  you  make  way 
for  me  through  the  crowd  ?  " 

"  I  will,  my  lady,"  Trevor  said,  offering  his 
arm. 

"  Nay,  sir,"  retorted  Savile,  "  I  am  the  lady's 
friend,  not  you." 

Trevor  noticed  him  as  little  as  a  poodle  ;  he 
still  smiled  and  offered  his  hand  to  Lady 
Betty. 

"  Lady  Clancarty  will  choose,  sir,  not  you," 
he  said  contemptuously. 

"  Lady  Clancarty  will  go  with  me,"  cried 
Savile,  hotly  and  authoritatively. 

"  Faith,  she  will  not,  sir,"  said  Betty  laugh- 
ing ;  "  Lady  Clancarty  will  be  commanded  by 
none,  my  lord,  and  Mr.  Trevor  will  do  her 
this  small  service.  But  there  are  my  thanks 
for  your  kindness." 

And  she  courtesied  prettily  before  she  laid 
her  hand  lightly  on  the  stranger's  -arm  and 
moved  at  his  side  through  the  throng  toward 
the  open  heath  beyond.  Their  progress  was 
necessarily  slow,  and  followed  by  many  ad- 
miring glances,  for  the  roses  had  deepened  in 
Lady  Betty's  cheeks.  The  tall  Irishman  be- 

7° 


At  the  Races 

side  her  was  no  less  a  striking  figure ;  his 
height  and  proportions,  the  clean-cut  face, 
steel-gray  eyes,  and  close-shut  thin  lips  had  a 
history  of  their  own  ;  no  one  could  doubt  it. 

As  for  Lord  Savile,  he  stood  fuming  and 
vowing  vengeance  on  the  cursed  Irish  Jacobite, 
as  he  was  pleased  to  name  his  rival ;  if  a  stanch 
Whig  hated  any  man,  by  instinct,  he  must 
needs  be  a  Papist  and  a  Jacobite. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

LADY    BETTY    AND    AN    IRISH    JACOBITE 

LADY  BETTY  and  her  companion 
walked  on.  The  crowd,  still  huzzaing 
and  noisy  about  the  victors,  was 
dropped  behind  them,  all  its  gorgeous  colors 
knotted  into  one  huge  rosette  upon  the  track  ; 
beyond  were  green  meadows  and  the  blue 
shadows  of  a  grove  of  limes.  The  two  walked 
slowly,  Lady  Betty  a  little  in  advance,  her  long 
skirts  gathered  in  one  hand,  the  other  holding 
her  fan,  the  sun  and  the  breeze  kissing  the 
soft  curves  of  her  cheeks.  Beside  her,  hold- 
ing his  hat  behind  his  back,  was  Richard 
Trevor,  his  eyes  on  her,  while  hers  were  on  the 
landscape  ;  the  long,  level  stretch  of  turf,  the 
grove  of  limes,  and  farther  off — veiled  in 
golden  mist — the  wavy  outlines  of  forest  and 
hills.  Above,  the  sky  was  blue  —  blue  as 
larkspur  ;  the  air  was  sweet  too,  as  if  the  fra- 
grance of  flowers  floated  on  the  soft  September 
breeze.  A  flock  of  pigeons,  with  the  whir  of 

72 


Lady  Betty  and  an  Irish  Jacobite 

many  wings,  rose  from  the  ground  as  Betty 
approached,  and  she  looked  up  after  them 
and  sighed. 

"Is  it  true  that  the  French  king  wears  red 
heels  to  his  shoes  ?  "  she  asked  suddenly  and 
quite  irrelevantly. 

Mr.  Trevor  started  perceptibly,  giving  her 
a  quizzical  glance. 

"They  are  frequently  purple,"  he  replied, 
with  perfect  gravity. 

"  Because,  I  suppose,  it  is  a  royal  color," 
she  remarked  absently ;  "  you  are  a  Jacobite, 
Mr.  Trevor." 

"  Either  my  disguise  is  a  flimsy  one,  or 
your  penetration  is  great,  Lady  Clancarty,"  he 
replied,  with  a  whimsical  smile ;  "  but  I  '11 
swear  I  'm  not  alone  at  Newmarket." 

Lady  Betty  elevated  her  brows  a  little. 

"  It  has  been  frequently  hinted  that  King 
William  was  one,"  she  remarked  tranquilly. 

"  By  the  Whigs  out  of  office,"  he  said,  with 
a  short,  hard  laugh  ;  "  he  is  not  counted  one 
on  the  Continent." 

"  Or  in  Ireland,"  she  said ;  "  you  were  at 
Londonderry,  of  course." 

"There  were  two  sides  to  the  wall  at  Lon- 
donderry, my  lady,"  he  replied ;  "  I  was  on 
one  —  I  Ml  admit  that." 

73 


My  Lady  Clancarty 

"It  is  safe  not  to  be  explicit,"  she  said  smil- 
ing; "you  are  an  Irishman,  a  Papist,  and  a 
Jacobite,"  she  told  off  each  point  on  her  rin- 
gers, "  and  you  are  from  Munster." 

"  Precisely,"  said  Mr.  Trevor,  with  great 
composure ;  "  you  have  nailed  me  to  the  wall, 
madam  ;  I  am  a  sinner  of  the  blackest  dye,  a 
subject  for  the  gallows." 

"  So  I  supposed,"  she  said  cheerfully,  nod- 
ding her  head  at  him,  "  and  being  all  these 
things,  and  from  the  Continent,  can  you  tell 
me  — "  for  the  first  time  she  hesitated,  stopped 
short,  looking  at  the  turf  under  her  daintily 
shod  feet,  her  face  crimson. 

He  waited,  smiling,  composed,  watchful ; 
not  helping  her  by  a  word  or  sign,  and  she 
could  not  read  his  eyes  when  she  looked  into 
them. 

"  Do  you  know  Lord  Clancarty?  "  she  asked 
bluntly. 

He  took  time  to  consider,  studying,  mean- 
while, every  detail  of  her  charming,  ingenuous 
face  and  perfect  figure. 

"  I  have  met  him,"  he  said  deliberately,  "  in 
Dublin  and  in  Paris."  Betty's  agitation  was 
quite  apparent,  but  she  commanded  herself  and 
looked  up  bravely. 

"  He  is  my  husband,"  she  said  simply. 
74 


Lady  Betty  and  an  Irish  Jacobite 

Mr.  Trevor  smiled  involuntarily. 

"  He  is  a  happy  man,"  he  said  gallantly. 

She  made  an  impatient  gesture,  laughing 
and  blushing. 

"  Tell  me  how  he  looks  ? "  she  asked ;  "  I 
have  never  seen  him  since  he  was  fifteen  and 
I  eleven.  Is  he  a  bugbear?  They  would 
have  me  believe  so." 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  have  always  thought 
him  handsome,  my  lady,"  Mr.  Trevor  said, 
smiling  imperturbably,  "and  altogether  the 
most  companionable  man  I  know." 

"Indeed!"  she  exclaimed;  "yet  you  told 
me  you  had  only  met  him  —  twice." 

"In  two  places,"  corrected  Mr.  Trevor 
quite  unmoved,  "but  frequently.  He's  a 
fine  man,  madam,  take  my  word  for  it ;  I 
love  him  like  a  brother ;  he  has  only  one 
fault,  madam,  one  sin,  and  that,  I  '11  admit,  is 
unpardonable." 

"  And  that  ? "  she  queried,  with  uplifted 
brows,  a  little  haughtily. 

"  And  that,"  replied  Mr.  Trevor  calmly, 
"  is  the  fact  that  he  has  been  able  to  live  for 
fourteen  years  without  his  wife." 

Lady  Clancarty  flushed  angrily,  and  then 
she  laughed  that  delicious,  mirthful  laugh  of 
hers. 

75 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

"He  has  existed,  sir,"  she  corrected  him, 
"  because  he  never  knew  how  delightful  Lady 
Clancarty  is." 

"  Exactly,"  replied  Trevor,  "  a  mere  exist- 
ence ;  life  uncrowned  by  love  —  such  love  as 
he  ought  to  have  won,  confound  him  —  is  not 
life.  He  might  as  well  be  a  turnip." 

"So  I  have  always  thought,"  she  replied, 
with  a  charming  smile ;  "  but  then,  you  know, 
Mr.  Trevor,  he  might  not  have  been  able  to 
win  it." 

"  Not  win  it !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  not  win  it, 
when  he  is  a  husband  to  begin  with.  By  Saint 
Patrick,  madam,  1  'd  cut  his  acquaintance  for 
life!  Not  win  it?  What  cannot  a  man  do 
under  the  inspiration  of  a  beautiful  and  noble 
woman  ?  Kingdoms  have  been  won  and  lost  for 
them.  If  Troy  fell  for  Helen,  an  empire  might 
well  fall  for  a  woman  as  beautiful  and  far  more 
womanly.  I  'd  run  Clancarty  through,  my 
lady,  if  he  were  not  willing  to  die  for  his  true 
love.  Irishmen  are  not  made  of  such  poor 
stuff.  No,  no,  he  would  win  it,  never  fear." 

Lady  Betty's  chin  was  up  and  her  eyes  trav- 
elling over  the  green  turf  again. 

"An  idle  boast,  sir,"  she  said  carelessly; 
"  no  woman  would  be  lightly  won  after  years 
of  neglect." 

76 


Lady  Betty  and  an  Irish  Jacobite 

"  Nor  should  be,"  he  replied,  in  a  deep  tone 
of  emotion,  "  nor  should  be  !  By  the  Virgin, 
Clancarty  ought  to  go  on  his  knees  from 
Munster  to  Althorpe  in  penitence." 

"  Faith,  what  would  he  do  about  the  Chan- 
nel, Mr.  Trevor  ? "  she  asked  wickedly. 

"  Swim  it,  madam,"  he  replied  promptly ; 
"  a  true  man  and  a  lover  would  not  drown  — 
with  such  a  saint  enshrined  before  him." 

"A  Protestant  saint  for  a  Papist  penitent," 
remarked  Lady  Betty  smiling ;  "  what  a  poor 
consolation." 

"  Love  laughs  at  obstacles,  my  Lady  Clan- 
carty," said  Mr.  Trevor,  "  and  it  forgets 
creed." 

"  Oh  !  "  she  said  and  her  brows  went  up. 

"  There  is  one  excuse,  though,"  he  went  on, 
"one  —  or  I  would  never  speak  to  Donough 
Macarthy  again." 

"  Oh,  there  is  one,  then  ?  "  she  asked  doubt- 
fully. 

"  One  —  yes,"  he  replied  gravely  ;  "  he  is  a 
proscribed  exile,  madam,  this  king  of  yours 
has  excepted  him  from  the  Act  of  Grace  ;  he 
cannot  return  except,  indeed,  to  the  Tower 
and  the  block.  But,  after  all,  to  lose  a  head  is 
less  than  to  lose  a  heart." 

Lady  Betty  laughed. 
77 


My  Lady  C  lane  arty 

"  Only  one  can  recover  a  heart,"  she  said 
wickedly,  "  but  a  head  —  I  never  heard  of  one 
that  was  put  on  after  the  headsman." 

"  Nor  I,"  he  admitted,  "  but,  after  all,  one 
can  die  but  once." 

"  And  one  can  love  many  times,"  suggested 
Betty  ;  "  I  have  heard  that  my  Lord  Clancarty's 
heart  is  tender." 

"  Mere  fables,  madam,"  he  replied,  with 
cool  mendacity  ;  "  his  heart  is  made  for  one 
image  only  and  would  keep  that  —  to  eternity." 

"  His  must  be  a  valuable  and  rare  heart," 
Lady  Clancarty  remarked  demurely,  "  too  good, 
sir,  to  exchange  for  a  human  one." 

"  Verily  too  good  to  give  without  a  fair 
exchange,  madam,"  he  replied,  smiling  auda- 
ciously ;  "  nor  will  Clancarty  cast  it  by  the  way- 
side. I  know  him  for  a  man  who  will  love 
and  be  loved  again.  He 's  no  moonstruck 
youth,  my  lady  ;  when  he  gives  he  will  demand 
a  return." 

She  carried  her  head  proudly.  "  He  should 
have  to  win  it,"  she  said. 

"  He  would  win  it,"  Trevor  retorted  boldly, 
"  and  he  would  hold  it.  Pshaw,  madam,  I 
despise  a  milksop,  and  so  do  you  !  " 

"  You  are  overbold  in  your  assertions,  sir," 
Betty  said,  stopping  short  and  looking  back 

78 


Lady  Betty  and  an  Irish  Jacobite 

over  the  heath,  shading  her  eyes  with  her 
fan. 

"  Bold  for  a  friend,  my  lady,"  he  said  grace- 
fully, "  bold  for  the  absent  who  has  none  to 
plead  his  cause." 

Lady  Betty  laughed. 

"  Do  you  see  that  whirling,  frantic  thing 
yonder  ?  "  she  asked,  pointing  ;  "  't  is  my  Lady 
Sunderland's  India  shawl ;  she  is  waving  to 
me.  We  must  go  back,  sir;  she  thinks  I 
venture  too  near  the  lions." 

"  We  must  go  back,  it  seems,  since  you 
command  it,"  he  replied  regretfully,  "  but  I 
may  see  Lady  Clancarty  again  ?  I  may  speak 
to  her  of —  her  husband  ?  " 

Betty  hesitated  for  the  twentieth  part  of  a 
second  and  then  she  smiled. 

"  We  are  at  the  Lion's  Head,"  she  said, 
"  and  I  shall  receive  my  friends  after  supper  — 
but  do  not  talk  of  Lord  Clancarty." 

He  bowed  profoundly,  and  she  moved  on, 
for  the  India  shawl  was  waving  frantically  now 
and  Savile  and  the  others  were  coming  toward 
them. 

"I  thank  you  for  the  privilege,"  said  Richard 
Trevor  with  his  daring  smile;  "we  will  talk  of 
Lady  Clancarty." 

But  Betty  answered  not  a  word ;  she  walked 
79 


My  Lady  C  lane  arty 

back  across  the  heath,  proudly  silent,  nor  did 
she  cast  a  single  relenting  glance  behind  her  — 
and  thus  failed  to  see  the  quizzical  expression 
in  his  eyes. 


80 


CHAPTER   IX 

THE    WEARING    OF    THE    GREEN 

THAT  night  was  the  night  of  Devon- 
shire's great  ball  and  all  Newmarket 
was  agog,  streets  were  blocked  with 
fours  and  sixes  —  the  great  coaches  jammed  in 
rows,  with  fighting,  swearing  coachmen  and 
postilions.  As  for  the  chairs,  they  were  blocked 
in  so  closely  that  half  the  chairmen  had  black 
eyes  or  bloody  noses  in  the  morning ;  and  the 
link-boys,  let  loose  in  this  carnival,  ran  hither 
and  yon,  with  their  lanthorns  flaring  in  the 
wind  like  ministering  imps  in  an  inferno,  while 
the  country  people  and  the  tavern  tipsters  and 
the  market  women  filled  up  the  last  crevices, 
to  see  beauty  and  fashion  pass  in  and  out  the 
flaring  doorway,  whence  came  strains  of  music 
and  the  sounds  of  laughter.  The  king,  it  was 
true,  would;  not  be  there  ;  his  cough  —  or  de- 
spatches from  France,  it  was  whispered  —  would 
keep  him  in  bed  that  festive  night,  but  Lady 
Marlborough  was  there  and  in  her  train  the 
6  81 


My  Lady  C  lane  arty 

Princess  Anne.  People  had  begun  already 
to  put  the  pair  in  this  sequence,  and  laughed, 
in  their  sleeves,  at  it  and  at  William's  tolerance, 
for  no  one  despised  my  Lord  Marlborough 
more  than  that  astute,  cool-headed  monarch, 
who  knew  him  to  be  as  false  as  he  was  brilliant. 
Excepting  only  the  king  himself,  the  whole 
world  of  fashion  was  at  the  ball,  and  the  house 
was  dressed  with  green  boughs  and  flowers, 
rushes  and  sweet  seg,  and  a  wassail  bowl  stood 
in  the  hall  wreathed  with  blossoms.  The 
band  was  stationed  on  the  staircase  landing, 
the  musicians  clad  for  the  occasion  in  scarlet 
waistcoats  and  shorts,  deep  clocked  scarlet 
stockings,  and  coats  of  yellow  velvet  stamped 
on  the  back  with  red  roses  and  on  the  left 
breast  with  the  Devonshire  arms.  There 
were  female  attendants,  too,  attired  quaintly 
in  gay  flowered  silks  and  wearing  vizards,  who 
served  the  fyne  of  pocras,  sobyll  bere  and 
mum  below  stairs,  while  above  the  rooms 
were  lighted  by  flambeaux  and  the  floors 
polished  like  mirrors  for  the  dancers.  There 
were  to  be  dances  of  every  sort,  from  the 
country  romp,  "  cuckolds  all  awry,"  with 
"  hoite  come  toite,"  and  the  more  stately 
galliard,  to  "  Trenchemore  "  and  the  cushion 

dance  and  "  tolly  polly." 

8z 


The  Wearing  of  the  Green 

Her  Grace  of  Marlborough,  in  towering 
headdress  and  a  gown  of  red  velvet  over  a 
petticoat  of  cloth  of  gold,  led  the  first  dance 
with  his  Grace  of  Devonshire,  the  Princess 
Anne  and  the  duke  being  vis-a-vis,  but  only  a 
poor  spectacle  by  comparison. 

The  whole  house  overflowed  with  the 
throng.  The  greatest  of  the  court  were 
there,  Bedford  and  Ormond  and  Hartington, 
—  and  there,  too,  were  Godolphin  and  Somers 
and  a  bevy  of  beauty ;  ruffles  of  lace  and 
gleams  of  jewels,  and  here  and  there  the  rosy 
cheeks  of  the  daughters  of  the  country  squires. 
Old  dames  looked  on  from  the  wall,  smiling 
and  delighted  when  a  daughter  danced  and 
frowning  at  a  more  favored  neighbor,  and  the 
young  beaux  had  no  rest,  but  danced  in  their 
tight  French  shoes  and  bowed  until  their  backs 
were  doubled. 

But  the  greatest  stir  was  when  Lady  Clan- 
carty  led  the  galliard  with  her  noble  host,  my 
lady  all  in  white  and  gold,  with  one  pink  rose 
in  her  hair,  her  eyes  shining,  and  her  cheeks 
fresher  than  the  rose.  Down  the  long  room 
they  came  and  her  feet  scarcely  seemed  to 
touch  the  floor,  and  she  held  her  head  so  high 
that  it  almost  overlooked  his  grace,  who  bowed 
smilingly  toward  her,  a  stately  figure  himself 

83 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

as  he  moved  in  his  splendid  dress  down  the 
space  left  by  the  dancers,  the  music  scarcely 
drowning  the  murmur  of  applause.  Her 
Grace  of  Marlborough  was  outshone  and  she 
bit  her  lip  and  tossed  her  head. 

It  was  after  this,  when  my  Lady  Clancarty, 
flushed  and  lovely,  stood  surrounded  by  a 
throng  that  the  Irishman,  Mr.  Trevor,  pushed 
through  them  all  to  her  side.  A  handsome 
figure,  too,  and  one  which  had  won  more  than 
one  admiring  glance  that  night ;  a  graceful 
figure  clad  in  white  satin,  self-possessed, 
accomplished.  French  in  manner ;  he  had 
caught  the  trick  at  Versailles,  and  his  gray 
eyes  looked  straight  into  hers.  The  strains 
of  the  dance  floated  up  the  stairs ;  my  Lord 
Savile  pressed  forward. 

"  Our  dance,  my  lady,"  he  said,  almost 
imperatively  thrusting  between. 

For  an  instant  she  hesitated  and  then  she 
smiled  and  laid  her  hand  in  Mr.  Trevor's, 
so  near  that  it  brushed  Savile's  sleeve. 

"  This  dance  is  promised,  my  lord,"  she 
said  sweetly,  and  passed  out  on  the  floor  with 
her  partner. 

The  young  lord  swore  in  a  subdued  voice, 
happily  unheard  by  any  one.  All  eyes  were 
on  my  lady  and  her  partner. 

84 


The  bearing  of  the  Green 

"  What  a  pair  !  "  they  murmured. 

"  Mars  and  Venus  !  "  cried  a  courtier. 

"  Venus  and  Apollo !  "  said  another,  and 
every  eye  was  on  them. 

Yet  the  two  thought  not  of  it,  they  danced 
superbly,  it  is  true,  and  with  a  joy  in  it,  being 
adepts  in  the  art,  but  Betty  could  think  of  no 
one  but  the  man  who  held  her  hand,  whose 
eyes  held  hers,  too,  by  a  spell.  Perhaps,  she 
feared  a  little  the  mastery  of  his  ways,  yet  she 
had  never  danced  before  with  such  a  partner. 

"  You  have  learned  to  dance  in  France,  sir, 
I  think,"  she  said  lightly,  laughing  a  little. 

"  Perhaps,"  he  replied,  smiling  too,  "  but  I 
think  I  learned  on  the  mossy  fields  of  old 
Ireland,  that  I  was  born  a  dancer." 

Afterwards  they  went  out  on  the  balcony 
together,  the  night  air  cooling  their  faces. 
Below  was  the  garden,  for  this  was  the  rear  of 
the  house.  It  was  dark  and  silent  without, 
but  the  strains  of  music  floated  through  the 
open  windows  and  the  light  from  within  fell 
on  her. 

He  took  something  from  his  breast  and 
pressing  it  to  his  lips,  held  it  out  to  her. 

"  Will  you  wear  it,  my  lady,"  he  said  softly, 
"  the  symbol  of  an  unfortunate  country  and 
—  of  a  loyal  heart  ?  " 

85 


My  Lady  C  lane  arty 

She  looked  at  it  strangely,  it  was  a  piece  of 
shamrock.  Perhaps  she  meant  to  refuse  it, 
but  she  saw  Savile  coming  and  a  malicious  imp 
leaped  into  her  eyes.  She  took  it  and  tried  to 
fasten  it  in  her  hair  but  her  fingers  faltered, 
and  Savile  drew  nearer ;  the  music,  too, 
heralded  another  dance. 

"  Permit  me,"  said  Richard  Trevor,  and 
deftly  fastened  the  shamrock  where  the  rose 
had  been,  that  slipped  and  fell  between  them 
on  the  floor. 

Lady  Clancarty's  face  was  crimson.  Trevor 
knelt  on  one  knee  and  taking  up  the  rose 
kissed  it. 

"  A  fair  exchange,"  he  said. 

She  bit  her  lip  and  stretched  out  her  hand 
to  snatch  the  flower. 

"  You  will  dance  with  me  now,  my  lady  ? " 
said  Lord  Savile. 

"  You  were  long  in  coming,"  replied  her 
ladyship  wickedly,  with  mock  eagerness,  but 
not  without  a  backward  glance  to  see  the  effect 
of  it ;  but  the  coquette  was  disappointed. 

At  her  words,  the  Irishman  let  her  flower 
lie  where  it  had  fallen,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
she  saw  him  dancing  with  the  pretty  daughter 
of  a  country  squire.  Lady  Clancarty  liked  it 
so  little  that  she  set  her  teeth  on  her  lip  and 

86 


The  Wearing  of  the  Green 

gave  my  Lord  Savile  a  bit  of  her  temper.  Yet 
she  wore  the  shamrock,  though  half  the  room 
began  to  comment  upon  it. 

It  was  morning  when  the  great  rout  broke 
up  and  the  stream  of  coaches  began  to  move 
again.  The  crowd  had  stayed  ;  they  knew  my 
lord  duke's  generosity  and  that  the  broken 
meats  from  that  fete  would  keep  them  for  a 
sevennight,  and  they  waited  to  pour  at  last 
into  the  kitchenway  and  come  out  heavy-laden  ; 
they  were  there  when  the  great  people  went 
away  in  their  coaches  and  chairs. 

Lady  Sunderland  was  already  in  her  chair 
and  her  daughter  was  coming  down  the  stair 
with  a  throng  of  followers,  but  it  was  Richard 
Trevor  who  walked  beside  her. 

"The  rose  I  would  not  take  from  the 
ground,"  he  whispered,  "  I  am  no  beggar  of 
crumbs  —  but  the  shamrock  —  " 

She  smiled  and  her  bright  eyes  looked  be- 
yond him  at  the  throng  below. 

"  The  shamrock  !  "  he  murmured. 

It  was  not  in  her  hair;  had  she  thrown  it 
away  ?  A  step  lower  down  and  she  held  out 
her  hand  and  dropped  the  sprig  into  his. 

"  A  poor  thing,  sir,  but  't  is  yours,"  she 
said,  "  and  you  were  long  in  claiming  it,"  she 
added,  laughing  softly. 

87 


My  Lady  Clan  car ty 

At  the  moment  a  wreath  of  flowers,  cast 
from  the  balcony  above,  fell  lightly  on  her 
shoulders,  and  she  stood  laughing,  the  petals 
showering  her  and  falling  all  about  her  feet. 

He  kissed  her  finger  tips  gallantly. 

"  The  Queen  of  the  Rout  is  crowned  !  "  he 
said. 


88 


CHAPTER   X 

AN    IRISH     DEFIANCE 

MELISSA   stood    meekly    before    her 
mistress. 
"My   Lady    Sunderland's  compli- 
ments, madam,"  she  said,  with  her  usual  purr ; 
"  will  you  play  basset  to-night  ? " 

"  No,"  replied  Lady  Clancarty ;  "  many 
thanks ;  but  tell  my  mother  that  I  am  to  have 
guests,  and  my  purse  is  too  thin  for  basset." 

As  the  door  closed  on  Melissa,  Lady  Clan- 
carty rose  from  her  dressing-table. 

"  I  will  wear  the  pink  flowered  brocade, 
Alice,"  she  said. 

Alice  opened  her  eyes.  "  Oh,  my  lady," 
she  remonstrated,  "  it  is  too  lovely  ;  I  thought 
you  meant  it  only  for  the  king's  levees." 

Her  mistress  smiled.  "  May  not  the  king 
come  here  —  if  he  chooses  ?  "  she  said  mis- 
chievously. "  The  brocade,  Alice." 

Unconvinced,  Alice  brought  the  garment, 
a  beautiful  and  costly  thing  frosted  with  rare 

89 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

lace,  and  as  she  helped  Lady  Betty  put  it  on 
she  was  more  and  more  impressed  with  its 
charms. 

"  Oh,  my  lady,"  she  murmured,  "  you  do 
look  lovely  in  it — 'tis  too  fine  by  half." 

Betty  craned  her  neck  backward,  looking 
over  her  shoulder  into  the  glass  ;  the  folds  of 
the  sheeny  satin  fell  about  her,  the  bodice 
fitted  like  a  glove,  displaying  every  curve  of 
her  well-rounded  form,  and  it  was  low  cut, 
revealing  a  neck  and  shoulders  like  snow. 
The  beauty  smiled. 

"  Bring  me  my  string  of  pearls,"  she  said. 

Alice  brought  them  without  a  word  and 
helped  her  fasten  them  about  her  throat. 
Betty  looked  into  the  mirror  again  and  then 
fell  to  fingering  the  bracelet  on  one  round  arm. 

"  Alice,"  she  said,  half  laughing,  "  he  is  here." 

The  handmaid  started,  looking  at  her  in 
wonder. 

"  Who,  my  lady  ?  —  not  Lord  Clancarty  ?  " 

"  The  stranger  we  met  in  the  woods  at 
Althorpe,"  her  mistress  replied,  "  who  would 
have  kissed  me  for  a  milkmaid." 

"  Indeed,  madam,  I  think  he  would  as  lief 
kiss  you  as  a  queen,"  Alice  said  blushing, 
"  the  bold  gallant !  He  is  here  —  and  who 

is  he?" 

90 


An  Irish  Defiance 

Lady  Clancarty  clasped  and  unclasped  her 
bracelet  while  the  roses  deepened  in  her  cheeks. 

"  He  is  called  Richard  Trevor,"  she  said 
softly ;  "  a  pretty  name,  Alice,  Richard  — 
rich-hearted,  lion-hearted  —  like  our  great 
Plantagenet." 

Alice  looked  at  her  in  bewilderment.  Lady 
Betty  had  as  many  moods  as  April  :  did  she 
mean  to  fall  in  love,  at  last,  after  all  her  loyalty 
to  that  unknown  and  terrible  exile  ?  Alice 
wondered.  But  saying  nothing  she  stooped 
down,  instead,  to  smooth  the  shining  folds  of 
the  beautiful  gown. 

"  Go  fix  the  candles,  Alice,"  Lady  Clan- 
carty said,  with  a  soft  little  sigh,  "  and  place  a 
table  for  cards  —  and  the  lute  and  guitar  — 
place  them  there  also.  Presently  my  guests 
will  be  here." 

The  handmaid  obeyed,  too  perplexed  by 
this  new  mood  of  my  lady's  to  venture  on  the 
smallest  observation.  She  had  arranged  the 
room  with  simple  taste  when  Lady  Betty 
entered  it  a  few  moments  later.  It  was  not  as 
large  a  room  as  her  mother's,  but  it  was  fur- 
nished, too,  with  an  open  fireplace  where  a 
single  log  burned,  for  the  nights  were  chilly. 
Candles  were  set  on  the  mantel  and  the  table, 
while  through  the  open  door  came  the  buzz 

9' 


My  Lady  Clancarty 

of  conversation,  for  Lady  Sunderland  was 
deep  in  a  game  of  basset  with  Lady  Dacres 
and  his  Grace  of  Bedford.  Betty  did  not  dis- 
turb them  but  observed  them  from  a  distance, 
noticing  her  mother's  rouged  face  and  nodding 
headdress,  and  Lady  Dacres's  pinched  and 
eager  features.  The  old  dame  was  as  keen 
as  any  gamester.  The  mother  and  daughter 
had  so  little  in  common  that  they  seemed  like 
strangers,  and  the  younger  countess  stood 
looking  at  the  log  in  deep  thought  when 
Richard  Trevor  was  announced.  As  she 
courtesied,  she  gave  him  a  quick,  keen  glance, 
but  made  nothing  of  that  bold  handsome  face 
of  his,  though  quick  to  note  the  distinction 
of  his  appearance  and  bearing,  those  of  a  man 
used  to  courts  as  well  as  camps.  She  saw  it 
all  at  a  glance,  as  she  had  seen  it  at  first,  but 
she  chose  to  receive  him  with  cool  politeness. 

"  You  play  basset,  of  course,  sir  ?  "  she  said 
demurely. 

But  he  saw  the  pitfall. 

"  I  'm  too  poor,  madam,"  he  replied  smiling. 
"  I  can  remember  hearing  an  old  courtier  tell 
how  he  lost  his  fortune  to  King  Charles  at 
basset." 

"  I  trust  the  king  gave  it  back  to  him,"  she 
said  quickly. 

92 


An  Irish  Defiance 

"  He  made  him  a  lottery  cavalier,"  rejoined 
Mr.  Trevor  calmly. 

Betty  smiled  scornfully.  "  And  for  such 
a  king  men  have  died  ! "  she  said  signifi- 
cantly. 

"  Ingratitude  is  only  human  at  the  worst," 
he  replied,  laughing  softly,  "  and  you  know, 
'  the  king  can  do  no  wrong  ! ' 

Lady  Betty  put  her  finger  on  her  lip,  with  a 
glance  toward  the  card-players. 

"  You  are  right,"  he  said,  regardless  of  her 
caution,  "  't  is  quite  useless  to  die  for  any 
king.  There  is  only  one  thing  worth  dying 

for,  and  that  —  is  supremely  worth  living  for, 

» 
too. 

"And  it  is  not  a  king?"  she  commented 
thoughtfully,  "  or  a  queen  ?  " 

"  A  queen,  yes,"  he  admitted,  "  but  the 
queen  of  hearts.  The  only  thing  worth  living 
for,"  he  said,  and  his  voice  grew  deep  and 
tender,  "  and  dying  for,  my  Lady  Clancarty, 
is  —  Love." 

She  blushed  and  her  eyes  fell.  He  had  the 
most  compelling  glance  she  had  ever  encoun- 
tered. Those  eyes  of  his  would  enthrall  hers, 
and  she  looked  away. 

"  I  never  heard  of  any  man  dying  of  it," 
she  remarked,  with  a  bitter  little  laugh. 

93 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

"  That 's  because  a  wise  man  would  rather 
live  for  it,"  he  said;  "what  exquisite  torment 
for  a  man  to  die  and  leave  it  behind  him  —  in 
the  shape  of  a  lovely  widow." 

"  Ah,"  said  Lady  Betty,  with  a  roguish 
smile,  "  therein  lies  the  sting  !  " 

"  Precisely,"  admitted  the  Irishman ;  "  if 
there  's  one  thing  that  could  bring  me  back  to 
this  vale  of  tears  it  is  my  successor  !  " 

"  I  have  heard  that  in  India  the  widows  are 
burnt  on  the  funeral  pyres,"  she  remarked,  a 
glow  of  amusement  in  her  eyes ;  "you  might 
arrange  it  so  for  the  future  Mrs.  Trevor." 

He  shook  his  head  disconsolate.  "  She  's 
sure  to  be  a  woman  of  spirit,"  he  said;  "  I 
could  n't  get  her  consent." 

Betty  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  After  all 
you  have  said  of  love  you  can't  find  a  woman 
to  die  for  it  ?  " 

"  I  would  rather  she  lived  for  it,"  he  said, 
with  his  daring  smile,  "  and  for  me  ! " 

"  Men  are  purely  selfish,"  she  retorted 
with  fine  indifference,  "  it 's  always  *  for 
me';  hadn't  you  better  dream  of  living  for 
her  ?  " 

"  I  do  !  "  he  replied  promptly  ;  "  faith,  if  I 
didn't  dream  of  her  I  should  immediately 
expire  —  she  's  the  star  of  my  life." 

94 


An  Irish  Defiance 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Lady  Betty,  in  a  strange  voice, 
"  it  has  gone  as  far  as  that  ?  —  she  is  French, 
I  suppose?  "  she  added  with  polite  interest 
and  elevated  brows. 

"  I  never  inquire  into  the  nationality  of 
divinities,"  he  said  coolly;  "she's  an  angel, 
and  that's  enough  for  her  humble  adorer." 

"  You  Papists  are  fond  of  saints,"  remarked 
my  lady,  tapping  the  floor  with  her  foot. 

"  And  sinners,"  he  admitted. 

Betty  turned  her  shoulder  toward  him. 

"  What  color  are  her  eyes  ?  "  she  asked, 
playing  with  her  fan. 

"  I  can't  look  into  them  at  this  moment," 
he  replied  with  audacity,  "  but  I  hope  to  tell 
you  later." 

She  flashed  a  withering  glance  at  him. 

"They  are  brown,"  he  announced  coolly. 

Anger  and  amusement  struggled  for  a 
moment  on  Lady  Betty's  face,  and  then  she 
laughed  and  dropped  her  fan. 

He  stooped  to  pick  it  up  and  something 
green  and  shrivelled  fell  before  her.  Lady 
Betty  put  her  foot  on  it.  He  handed  her 
the  fan  with  a  bow.  The  voices  in  the  other 
room  rose  a  little  in  a  dispute. 

"  What  are  they  saying?  "  she  asked,  sway- 
ing her  fan  before  her  face. 

95 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

He  listened  and  smiled.  "  They  are  talking 
of  Lady  Home's  divorce,"  he  said;  "what  is 
your  ladyship's  view  of  it  ?  " 

She  hesitated  —  and  there  is  a  proverb  ! 

"You  are  a  Papist,"  she  said,  "do  you  be- 
lieve that  a  marriage  —  even  a  foolish  one  — 
is  indissoluble  ? " 

"  Certainly  I  do,"  he  replied  piously;  "perish 
the  thought  of  severing  the  tie  !  " 

She  reddened. 

"  So,  't  is  ( for  better  or  for  worse '  !  "  she 
said  bitterly,  "and  usually  for  worse." 

" 4  Until  death  us  do  part/ '  he  quoted 
piously  again. 

Lady  Betty  started  and  turned  from  red  to 
white. 

"  'T  is  a  horrible  idea,"  she  said,  with  a 
shudder,  —  Lord  Sunderland  would  have  heard 
her  with  amazement,  —  "  no  escape  for  a  poor 
woman  who  has  been  ensnared  into  a  wretched 


union 


"  A  wretched  union,"  he  repeated  slowly,  a 
change  coming  over  his  face,  "  a  wretched 
union ;  are  all  marriages  so  wretched,  my 
lady  ?  " 

"  A  great  many  of  them,"  she  retorted  tartly, 
and  he  could  only  see  the  curve  of  her  white 
shoulder  and  the  back  of  her  head. 

96 


An  Irish  Defiance 

He  knelt  on  one  knee  and  began  to  look 
around  on  the  floor  with  an  anxious  face. 
After  a  moment  she  looked  at  him  over  her 
shoulder. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  she  asked,  blushing  and  bit- 
ing her  lip.  < 

"  My  shamrock,"  he  said,  peeping  under  the 
table  with  an  air  of  perplexity. 

"  Do  you  always  carry  vegetables  with  you  ?  " 
she  asked  witheringly. 

"  I  have  —  since  last  night,"  he  retorted, 
still  searching. 

"  And  you  dropped  it  here  ? "  she  asked 
innocently. 

He  passed  his  sword  under  a  chair  and  drew 
it  back  slowly  over  the  floor. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  in  a  tone  of  deep  anxiety, 
"  't  was  here." 

She  moved  to  the  other  side  of  the  fire- 
place. 

"  Is  that  it  ?  "  she  asked,  coolly  pointing. 

He  pounced  upon  the  withered  sprig  and 
kissed  it,  and  rising  stood  looking  at  her. 

"  But,"  he  said,  and  a  daring  smile  played 
about  his  mouth  ;  he  took  a  step  nearer,  "  but 
some  marriages  are  made  —  in  heaven." 

"  And   others  —  "  Lady   Clancarty   pointed 
downward  with  a  wicked   smile, 
7  97 


My  Lady  Clan  car  ty 

"  Ah,"  he  answered,  "  those  are  of  earth, 
earthy ;  but  when  love  steps  in,  then,  my 
lady,  then  —  " 

"  There  comes  my  Lord  Savile,"  she  said, 
and  smiled  sweetly. 

"  Damn  him !  "  he  muttered  beneath  his 
breath. 

The  door  opened  to  admit  Lord  Savile  and 
Mr.  Benham,  and  her  greeting  was  cordiality 
itself. 

"  Here's  a  gentleman  who  has  staked  all  his 
fortune  on  his  gray  mare  and  lost  it !  "  Mr. 
Benham  said,  his  hand  on  Savile's  shoul- 
der, "  and  he  has  done  nothing  but  weep  for 
it." 

"  Saint  Thomas  !  "  exclaimed  that  nobleman, 
"  I  'm  not  the  first  to  stake  all  on  a  woman  and 
lose." 

"  Leave  the  saint  out  of  it,  my  lord,  when 
you  put  the  sinner  in,"  said  Lady  Betty. 

"  Oh,  Saint  Mary,  there  goes  my  last 
crown  !  "  came  from  the  other  room  in  the 
shrill  lament  of  Lady  Dacres. 

Both  Savile  and  Trevor  laughed. 

"  Change  the  sex  of  your  saint  and  you  have 
an  honorable  example,"  remarked  Trevor,  as 
he  picked  up  the  countess'  guitar  and  began  to 
finger  it  lightly. 

98 


An  Irish  Defiance 

"  I  'm  a  ruined  man,"  said  Savile  recklessly, 
"  unless  that  fickle  dame  —  Fortune  —  smiles 
on  me  to-morrow." 

"  You  ought  to  call  her  a  fickle  mare,  my 
lord,"  suggested  Lady  Betty  artlessly;  "when 
Fortune  runs  upon  four  legs  it  must  needs  be 
more  fleet  than  upon  two." 

Lord  Savile  looked  into  her  eyes  with  a 
smile. 

"  If  love  were  kind,  fortune  might  fly,  my 
lady,"  he  said  daringly,  but  very  low. 

Lady  Clancarty  flushed  hotly  as  she  turned 
to  greet  a  newcomer,  Sir  Edward  Mackie,  one 
of  Devonshire's  gentlemen ;  a  young  fellow 
with  a  round,  boyish  face,  who  had  worn  his 
heart  upon  his  sleeve  until  he  lost  it  to  Lady 
Betty.  But  so  ingenuous  was  he,  so  frankly 
generous  and  devoted,  that  she  gave  him  now 
her  sweetest  smile. 

Meanwhile,  Mr.  Trevor  still  tuned  the 
guitar,  but  he  had  heard  Savile's  whisper  to  my 
lady  and  had  watched  her  face  with  keen  and 
searching  eyes.  Young  Mackie  brought  news 
for  Lady  Clancarty. 

"  Your  brother  has  come,"  he  said  eagerly, 
"  my  Lord  Spencer  ;  I  have  just  had  the  honor 
to  wait  upon  him.  Very  proud  I  am  too,  my 
lady,  for  is  he  not  one  of  the  new  lights  of  the 

99 


My  Lady  Clan  car  ty 

party,  and  one  of  the  most  learned  young  men 
in  Britain  ?  " 

She  shrugged  her  white  shoulders  laughing. 

"He  is  all  that,  Sir  Edward,"  she  said,  "  and 
more  —  much  more,"  she  added  with  a  droll 
expression  of  despair. 

"  Much  learning  doth  make  him  mad,"  said 
Mr.  Trevor  smiling.  "  I  have  known  such 
cases  on  the  Continent." 

"  'T  is  instructive,"  Betty  admitted,  smil- 
ing at  Sir  Edward's  boyish  face,  "but  'tis 
dry." 

"  Give  me  a  fine  horse,  a  fine  woman,  and 
fine  music,  and  all  the  books  in  England  might 
burn,"  said  Benham. 

"  Oh  ! "  said  Lady  Betty,  and  she  lifted  her 
brows  with  a  contemptuous  glance. 

"  In  sequence,  according  to  your  valuation 
of  them,  sir,"  remarked  Mr.  Trevor,  with  a 
cool  smile,  "a  poor  compliment  to  the  sex. 
But  music  expresses  something  —  something 
only  —  of  the  beauty  and  charm  of  a  fair 
woman." 

"  Sing  to  us,  do  !  "  interposed  the  countess, 
"  I  despise  comparisons." 

"  To  hear  is  to  obey,  my  lady,"  he  replied, 
beginning  at  once  to  play  the  sad  wild  air  that 
made  her  start  and  change  color. 

100 


An  Irish  Defiance 

Would  he  dare  to  sing  that  here?  she 
thought,  her  heart  beating  hard ;  would  he  dare? 
How  little  she  knew  him  !  In  a  moment  his  rich 
tenor  voice,  a  voice  of  peculiar  charm  and 
timbre,  filled  the  room  and  even  startled  the 
card-players. 

"  'T  is  you  shall  reign  alone, 

My  dark  Rosaleen! 

My  own  Rosaleen! 

'T  is  you  shall  have  the  golden  throne, 
'T  is  you  shall  reign,  and  reign  alone, 

My  dark  Rosaleen!  " 

He  sang  the  wild  ballad  through  to  the  end, 
and  as  he  ceased,  Lady  Betty  turned  to  him 
and  smiled,  applauding  softly.  But  she  said 
nothing,  although  young  Mackie  was  openly 
delighted,  and  Lady  Sunderland  exclaimed  that 
it  was  a  marvellous  fine  performance  of  a  poor 
song. 

"  'T  is  an  old  ballad,  madam,"  Mr.  Trevor 
replied  courteously,  "  and  perhaps  a  poor  one, 
but  dear  to  the  Irish  heart." 

(<  Sing  an  English  one  next  time,  sir,  or  a 
Dutch  —  la  —  yes,  your  Grace  of  Bedford,  we 
grow  to  love  everything  Dutch." 

Lord    Savile    meanwhile,    with    his    hands 
thrust  into  his  pockets  and  his  face  flushed, 
lounged  nearer  to  the  singer. 
101 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

"  A  very  pretty  performance,"  he  said,  with 
an  insolent  drawl,  "worthy  a  tavern  musician. 
By  Jove,  sir,  the  tune  is  pestiferous  here ;  an 
Irishman  and  a  cow-stealer  are  synonymous." 

Richard  Trevor  smiled,  his  gray  eyes  flash- 
ing dangerously. 

"  And  English  noblemen  are  often  cowards, 
and  liars  to  boot,  sir,"  he  said  in  an  undertone, 
his  hand  still  on  the  guitar. 

"  I  am  at  your  service,"  said  Savile,  in  a 
passionate  voice. 

Trevor  glanced  warningly  at  Lady  Clancarty. 

"  Elsewhere,  my  lord,  with  pleasure,"  he 
said,  still  smiling,  "  I  might  add  with  joy." 

Lady  Sunderland  came  in  now  with  her 
guests ;  she  had  won  at  basset  and  was  in  high 
good  humor. 

"  A  song,"  she  cried,  "  another  song." 

Her  eyes  sought  Trevor  and  he  bowed 
gravely. 

"  At  another  time,  my  lady,"  he  said  ;  "  now 
I  must  wait  on  a  friend,  who  has  the  first 
claim  upon  me.  My  ladies  all,  good-night," 
and  he  bowed  gracefully,  a  certain  merry  de- 
fiance in  his  glance. 

Lady  Betty  held  out  her  hand  involuntarily. 

"I  thank  you  for  the  ballad,"  she  said  and 
smiled. 

102 


An  Irish  Defiance 

He  carried  her  hand  to  his  lips  and,  it  may 
be,  kissed  it  with  more  fervor  than  courtesy 
required,  for  the  rosy  tide  swept  over  her 
white  neck  and  her  cheeks  and  brow. 

As  he  went  out,  Lady  Sunderland  tapped 
her  fan  upon  her  lips.  "  Don't  tell  it,"  she 
said,  with  the  coquetry  of  a  girl  of  sixteen, 
"  don't  tell  it,  but  la !  —  he  has  the  finest 
figure  I  ever  saw,  and  the  legs  of  an  Apollo." 

"  'Pon  my  soul,  madam,  that 's  a  compli- 
ment that 's  worth  dying  for,"  Mr.  Benham 
said,  with  a  peculiar  smile  at  Savile. 

Betty  seeing  it,  went  over  and  stood  staring 
into  the  embers  on  the  hearth,  though  she 
pretended  to  be  talking  to  young  Mackie. 


103 


CHAPTER   XI 

A     NIGHT     OF     PORTENTS 

A  ICE  was  combing  Lady  Betty's  hair 
late  that  night. 
The  two  girls  were  in  Betty's  bed- 
room, a  solitary  taper  burning  on  the  table. 
In  this  rosy  twilight  both  faces  showed  indis- 
tinctly. Betty's  finery  lay  upon  a  chair  near 
by  ;  she  wore  only  a  flowing  white  robe  over  her 
night-rail,  and  one  rosy  foot,  out  of  the  slipper, 
rested  on  the  rug.  Her  luxuriant  hair  falling 
about  her  almost  hid  her  face,  and  her  eyes 
were  fixed  pensively  upon  the  fire.  Mean- 
while, Alice  stood  behind  her  combing  and 
brushing  her  hair  with  hands  that  actually  trem- 
bled, while  her  face  was  very  white.  If  Lady 
Clancarty  had  looked  at  her,  she  would  have 
divined  some  trouble,  but  as  it  was  she  was 
only  aroused  from  her  revery  by  the  girl's 
unwonted  awkwardness. 

"  Dear  me,  Alice !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  that  is 
the  third  time  you  have  pulled  my  hair.     I 
104. 


A  Night  of  Portents 

shall  be  as  bald  soon  as  Lady  Dacres  without 
her  perukes.  What  ails  you,  girl  ?  " 

"  I  'm  nervous,"  Alice  said,  her  voice  break- 
ing suspiciously,  "  I  can't  help  it." 

Lady  Betty  tossed  back  her  hair,  snatched 
up  a  taper  and  looked  at  her  sharply. 

"Nervous?"  she  exclaimed,  "why,  you  are 
naturally  as  tame  as  any  barnyard  fowl.  Nerv- 
ous !  Why,  your  eyes  are  sticking  out  of  your 
head.  What  is  it,  girl  ?  Hast  met  your  friend 
the  parson  again  ?  " 

"  No,  no,"  faltered  Alice,  with  a  little  sob. 
"I  —  I  overheard  some  talk  between  two  gen- 
tlemen to-night  in  the  hall  —  and  it  scared  me." 

Betty  laughed  merrily. 

"  Fie,  Alice,  fie  !  "  she  cried,  "  an  eavesdrop- 
per !  What  horrible  thing  was  it  they  said  ? 
Mercy  on  us,  girl,  you  look  as  if  they  plotted 
bloody  murder ! " 

"  So  they  did,  madam,"  Alice  said  soberly. 

Lady  Betty  stared. 

"  The  child 's  demented,"  she  remarked, 
shaking  her  head. 

"That  I'm  not,"  Alice  replied  bluntly, 
wiping  a  tear  from  her  pale  cheek,  "  but  I  hate 
to  think  of  one  of  them  dead  —  for  some  folly, 
too." 

"  Oh,  ho ! "  said  her  mistress,  setting  down 
105 


My  Lady  Cla?icarty 

the  taper,  "now  I  understand  —  there  is  to  be 
a  duel ;  "  then  suddenly  her  mood  changed. 

"Who  were  they?"  she  demanded  sharply. 

Alice  began  to  show  reluctance  and  her  eyes 
avoided  Betty's. 

"  Two  guests  of  the  inn,  madam,"  she  said, 
averting  her  face. 

But  Lady  Clancarty  caught  her  arm  and 
turned  her  to  the  light. 

"  Out  with  it,  Alice,"  she  said  imperiously, 
"  I  will  know." 

"  It  was  Lord  Savile,"  the  girl  said  slowly, 
"and  —  and  another  —  a  stranger." 

"Our  stranger  of  Althorpe,  Alice?"  Lady 
Betty  said,  a  sudden  indefinable  change  in  her 
whole  aspect. 

Alice  nodded  sullenly. 

Her  mistress  stood  quite  still  for  a  moment, 
pressing  her  hands  together.  She  had  shaken 
her  hair  about  her  face  again,  so  that  it  was 
concealed.  There  was  something  in  her  atti- 
tude so  unusual,  in  the  silence,  too,  of  the  room, 
where  only  the  fire  crackled,  and  in  the  girl's 
own  nervousness,  that  quite  overcame  Alice. 
She  began  to  cry. 

"  They  fight  to-morrow,"  she  sobbed,  "  in  the 
meadow  bevond  the  grove  of  limes  —  at  sun- 
rise." 

1 06 


A  Night  of  Portents 

"  Who  are  their  seconds  ? "  Lady  Betty 
asked,  in  a  strangely  quiet  tone. 

"  Mr.  Benham,  so  I  heard  them  say,  and  a 
young  fellow  with  a  face  like  a  boy.  He  was 
to  act  for  the  stranger  because  he  had  no 
friends." 

"  Young  Mackie  !  "  said  Lady  Clancarty. 
"  You  heard  this  and  did  not  tell  me,  Alice  ?  I 
find  it  hard  to  forgive  you." 

"  But  why  should  I  ?  "  cried  Alice  trembling, 
"  what  could  your  ladyship  do  ? " 

Betty  gave  a  strange  little  laugh.  "You  shall 
see  what  I  will  do  to-morrow,"  she  said  quietly, 
"  for  you  shall  go  with  me." 

"  Go  where,  my  lady  ?  "  Alice  asked  in  sur- 
prise. 

"To  the  meadow  behind  the  limes,"  replied 
her  mistress  calmly ;  "  there  I  shall  go  to- 
morrow, at  sunrise,  and  stop  this  folly.  It 
began  in  my  rooms,  Alice,  over  a  ballad,  and  I 
have  no  mind  that  it  shall  end  in  bloodshed." 

"  Indeed,  madam,  I  think  you  are  in  the 
right,"  said  Alice  simply,  "  but  what  can  we  do  ? 
They  will  never  listen  to  a  woman  !  " 

Lady  Clancarty  shut  her  lips  firmly,  and  held 
her  little  bare  foot  out  to  the  fire,  warming  it. 

"  I  fear  you  cannot  stop  them,"  Alice  went 
on  ;  "  Lord  Savile  was  very  fierce,  but  the  other 
107 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

gentleman  —  oh,  madam,  I  feared  him  more! 
he  was  so  cool;  and  those  eyes  of  his  —  they 
are  like  steel." 

"  So  they  are,"  said  Betty  absently,  "  and 
hath  he  not  a  handsome  face  ?  "  and  she  looked 
pensively  into  the  fire.  "  To-morrow  we  shall 
go,  Alice,  to-morrow  at  sunrise,  and  I  shall  stop 
this  duel  —  I  will  stop  it,  if  I  have  to  go  to  the 
king!" 

But  the  little  handmaid  did  not  reply ;  she 
was  watching  her  mistress  with  an  anxious  face. 
She  did  not  know  the  meaning  of  this  new 
Lady  Betty,  and  some  hint  of  impending 
trouble  weighed  upon  her.  She  was  country 
bred,  too,  and  timid,  and  the  thought  of  the 
gray  dawn  with  the  shadowy  trees  looming 
through  the  mist  and  only  the  flash  of  steel  to 
illumine  the  scene,  made  her  tremble.  But 
Betty,  usually  so  observant  and  sympathetic 
and  light  hearted,  did  not  heed  her;  she  was 
suddenly  self-absorbed,  pensive,  quietly  deter- 
mined. She  went  to  the  window  and  peeped 
out  into  the  night. 

"  How  many  hours  until  sunrise,  Alice  ? " 
she  asked. 

"  Six,  my  lady,"  the  girl  replied  with  a  sigh, 
"  and  I  wish  it  might  be  sixteen  ! " 

Betty  laughed,  a  strange  little  embarrassed 

108 


A  Night  of  Portents 

laugh,  coming  back  and  sinking  on  her  knees 
before  the  hearth,  the  firelight  playing  on  her 
lovely  face,  and  the  shadowy  masses  of  her  hair, 
and  the  gleaming  white  of  her  draperies. 

"  I  cannot  sleep,"  she  said  softly  ;  "  I  cannot 
sleep  —  I  am  not  fit  for  a  soldier's  wife  ! " 

Alice  shuddered.  "  Indeed,  my  lady,  I  'd 
as  lief  marry  a  butcher ! "  she  cried,  with  such 
genuine  horror  and  disgust  that  she  moved  her 
mistress  to  merriment. 

"  There,  my  girl,  I  told  you  so,"  cried  Lady 
Betty, "  you  were  meant  for  that  same  parson." 


109 


CHAPTER   XII 

MASTER    AND    MAN 

MEANWHILE,  under  the  same  roof 
but  in  far  different  quarters,  the 
young  Irishman  called  Richard 
Trevor  was  talking  to  his  servant,  the  same 
who  had  led  his  horse  up  and  down  in  the  inn- 
yard  under  Lady  Betty's  window.  The  room 
—  an  attic  one  —  was  scarcely  ten  feet  square, 
and  almost  devoid  of  furniture ;  there  was  a 
pallet,  a  table,  and  two  chairs ;  and  a  mat  of 
braided  straw  at  the  foot  of  the  master's  bed 
served  for  the  man's.  A  single  candle  burned 
low  in  its  socket  on  the  table,  and  here  Richard 
Trevor  sat  with  some  writing  materials  before 
him,  but  he  was  not  writing ;  he  leaned  back 
in  his  chair  and  listened,  with  his  amused 
smile,  to  the  glib  talk  of  his  attendant. 

"  Faix,  sir,  they  be  afther  charging  more  here 
for  a  bite  of  mate  or  a  dhrap  of  liquor  thin  in 
anny  ither  place  in  th'  kingdom,"  said  the  man 
no 


Master  and  Man 

dolefully ;  "  I  Ve  bin  afther  minding  yer  lord- 
ship's insthructions  about  the  money,  an'  by 
the  Powers,  me  stomach  is  loike  to  clave  to 
me  backbone." 

"We  can  starve  respectably,  however,  Denis," 
said  his  master  smiling,  and  turning  the  contents 
of  his  purse  out  on  the  table ;  "  a  small  sum 
for  our  needs,  but  it  must  serve,"  he  added, 
counting  the  money  with  a  reckless  air;  "be- 
sides, one  of  us  may  die  before  we  come  to  the 
end  of  it." 

"  We  '11  be  afther  doin'  it  here,  yer  honor," 
said  Denis  gloomily,  "from  an  impty  stomach. 
Betwane  th'  landlord  an'  the  ranting,  tearing 
Whig  gintry  in  th'  stable-yard,  sir,  I  'm  clane 
daft." 

"  So  they  're  all  for  the  king  in  possession, 
are  they  ?  "  said  Trevor,  in  an  amused  tone ; 
"  I  hope  you  Ve  heeded  my  instructions  to 
keep  your  tongue  quiet  in  your  head  and  mind 
your  own  business." 

"  Faix,  me  lord,  I  Ve  bin  afther  minding 
mine,  but  they  're  afther  minding  it  too,  th' 
ill-favored  thribe !  " 

"  That  is  because  you  are  an  Irishman, 
Denis;  they  know  that  at  once." 

"  Indade,  yer   lordship  's  mistaken  intirely  ; 
they  've  no  idee  at  all  that    I  'm    a    Munster 
in 


My  Lady  Clancarty 

man,"  said  his  servant,  with  an  air  of  satisfac- 
tion, "  divil  a  bit  of  it !  Sometimes  I  'm  a 
Frenchy  an'  sometimes  I  'm  a  Dutchy  —  but 
an  Irishman  niver !  Lady  Clancarty's  woman 
—  a  sly  divil  with  a  pair  of  eyes  that  be  winking 
etarnally  —  she's  bin  swate  to  me.  By  the 
Virgin,  sir,  she 's  bin  afther  thryin'  to  sound 
me  about  yer  lordship.  She  looks  at  me  and 
purrs,  for  all  th'  wurruld,  loike  a  big  white 
tabby,  an'  says  she,  *  You 're  an  Irishman, 
sir !  '  '  Divil  a  bit,  me  darlint,'  says  I,  '  I  'm  a 
Dutchman,  born  at  th'  Hague  and  me  mither 
was  forty-first  cousin,  wanst  removed,  to  th' 
king's  grandmither,'  says  I.  cYe  don't  tell 
me  ! '  says  she,  and  her  little  pale  eyes  blinked 
loike  a  candle  in  th'  wind.  '  An'  what  '11  be 
yer  name,  sir?'  she  asks,  as  swate  as  honey. 
*  Mynheer  Tulipius,'  says  I,  for  I  could  n't 
think  of  anither  name  for  th'  life  of  me.  c  La, 
sir,'  says  she  with  a  simper,  *  you  look  loike  a 
tulip,  to  be  shure.'  c  So  I  do,  me  darlint,'  I  re- 
plied, and  I  thried  to  make  up  me  mind  to  kiss 
her,  but,  bedad,  sir,  I  could  n't  do  it ;  there  's 
something  about  her  that  sinds  the  cowld 
creeps  up  me  spine." 

"  You  're  a  great  coward,  Denis,"  said  his 
master  smiling,  "  afraid  of  a  woman  !  It 's  a 
new  fault  in  you,  and  one  that  I  did  not  ex- 

112 


Master  and  Man 

pect.     As    for   this    creature,    what   were    her 
questions  about  me  ?  " 

"  f  Yer  master 's  an  Irishman,  Mynheer  Tuli- 
pius,'  says  she,  '  that  we  all  know  fer  a  fact.' 
'  Is  he,  indade  ? '  says  I,  with  the  greatest 
amazement;  'tis  the  first  time  I  iver  heard 
it,'  says  I  ;  c  he  was  born  in  London  and  his 
fayther  was  one  of  Gineral  Cromwell's  Iron- 
sides.' *  Ye  don't  say  so/  says  she, f  how  iver 
did  he  get  on  so  well  at  Saint  Germain  thin  ?  ' 
and  she  blinked  a  hundred  times  in  a  second. 
f  Saint  Germain  ! '  says  I,  opening  my  eyes 
wide  ;  f  indade,  they  were  so  cowld  to  him  there 
that  he  was  afther  laving  before  he  got  there,' 
says  I,  c  it 's  quite  well  known,'  I  wint  on,  as 
slick  as  silk,  c  that  whin  the  man  Jimmy  Stuart, 
rayalized  that  my  masther  was  in  France  he 
put  on  a  shirt  of  mail  an'  niver  took  it  off  at 
all,  even  av  he  was  aslape  in  his  ruffled  silk 
night-rail,  for  fear  he  'd  be  kilt  on  th'  field  of 
honor.'  *  Is  that  so  ? '  says  she ;  f  an'  thin 
p'r'aps  ye  've  met  me  Lord  Clancarty  out 
there  ? '  e  Clancarty  ?  '  says  I,  squinting  hard 
with  wan  eye,  f  there  was  a  gintleman  of  that 
same  name  hung  jist  as  I  was  afther  laving 
Holland  —  mebbe  he's  yer  friend?'  By 
Saint  Patrick,  me  lord,  you  ought  to  have 
sane  her  stare  !  She  sthopped  winking  thin, 

8  IIJ 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

an'  looked  loike  a  cat  that 's  sane  a  bird  ;  on 
me  sowl,  sir,  I  looked  to  see  av  there  was  n't  a 
furry  tail  swinging  behind,  to  wurk  th'  charm 
on  me.  '  Clancarty  hung  ?  '  says  she,  clapping 
her  hand  to  her  heart,  '  what  for  ?  '  c  Faix,  I 
don't  know,  me  darlint,'  says  I,  f  unless  it  was 
for  being  too  much  of  a  Whig.'  c  Pshaw  ! ' 
cries  she,  stamping  her  foot,  '  ye  're  a  paddy 
fool  ! '  c  Niver  a  bit,'  says  I,  '  I  'm  a  Dutch 
wizard,  me  darlint;  just  let  me  be  afther  telling 
yer  fortune.'  But  away  she  v/int  in  a  towering 
rage,  an'  left  me  with  me  heart  broken  intirely 
at  the  siparation." 

"  I  fear  you  did  not  deceive  her,"  said  Clan- 
carty, with  a  laugh,  and  he  unsheathed  his 
sword,  running  his  finger  along  the  blade. 
"  My  old  friend  needs  polishing,  Denis,"  he 
added,  with  his  careless  air  of  good  humor, 
"  I  've  a  duel  on  my  hands  for  the  morning." 

The  Irishman's  face  sobered  in  an  instant, 
and  he  cast  a  look  of  concern  at  his  master. 

"  I  'm  sorra  for  it,  me  lord,"  he  said,  with 
an  honest  ring  in  his  voice,  "  ye  've  no  friends 
here." 

"  Except  you,  Denis,"  said  his  master  kindly, 
"  and  if  I  fall,  all  my  effects  are  yours  —  and 
— "  he  paused  an  instant  and  then  laughed 
recklessly,  "  and  you  can  tell  the  widow." 

114 


Master  and  Man 

"  She 's  a  foine  lady,  me  lord,"  said  Denis 
artfully,  "  '  t  is  a  pity  to  throw  away  yer  life 
now." 

"  She 's  a  woman  to  die  for,  Denis,"  ex- 
claimed his  lord,  a  sudden  glow  passing  over 
his  face  ;  "  but  I  shall  not  die  —  faith,  I  've 
fought  too  many  duels  to  die  in  one." 

"  There  's  always  loike  to  be  wan  too  many, 
yer  honor,"  said  Denis  gravely,  "  and  wan 
thrust  of  th'  sword  and  th'  house  of  Macarthy 
loses  its  head." 

The  young  man  laughed  recklessly. 

"  And  a  beggarly  exile  dies,"  he  said  bitterly. 
"  I  fear  you  are  not  a  man  of  courage,  Denis ; 
I  think  I  've  heard  of  you  in  the  retreat  from 
Boyne,"  he  added,  with  a  laughing  glance  at 
the  dark-faced,  sturdy  Irishman. 

"  Ah,  sir,  that  was  the  fault  of  me  shoes, 
an'  I  blush  for  it,"  Denis  replied. 

"Your  shoes,"  repeated  his  master,  "and 
wherefore  your  shoes  ?  " 

"  'T  was  afther  this  fashion,  me  lord,"  said 
Denis  gravely  ;  "  there  was  a  scamp  of  a  shoe- 
maker in  Dublin  that  was  accused,  an'  rightly 
as  I  b'lave,  of  being  allied  with  the  Powers  of 
Darkness,  and  he  was  afther  making  me  shoes. 
About  that  time  money  was  scarce,  sir,  as  ye 
know,  in  spite  of  King  James's  brass  pieces,  and 
"5 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

it  was  glad  I  was  to  get  the  shoes  at  all,  with- 
out bein'  over  an'  above  particular  about  the 
maker.  So  whin  Danny  O'Toole  says  to  me 
that  he  '11  make  me  a  blooming  pair  of  boots 
an'  thrust  me  fer  the  money,  niver  a  thought 
had  I  av  the  divilish  plot  he  was  afther  laying 
aginst  me  honor.  c  Make  'em  aisy,'  says  I, 
f  for  me  feet  are  sore  with  the  chasing  of  the 
English  an'  the  Dutch.'  c  Don't  ye  worry,' 
says  he  with  a  wink,  c  I  '11  make  'em  so  aisy 
they  '11  walk  off  without  ye,'  —  and  faith,  so 
he  did !  They  were  the  beautifullest  shoes, 
me  lord,  and  they  fitted  me  loike  the  skin  on 
a  potaty,  and  as  fer  walking  in  'em,  they  niver 
touched  the  ground  unless  they  stuck  fast  in  a 
bog,  and  that  was  n't  often.  I  niver  had  such 
a  pair  of  shoes,  nor  such  comfort,  and  all  wint 
along  as  smooth  as  lying  —  until  that  cursed 
day  of  the  battle  of  Boyne." 

"  A  day  when  a  good  many  Irishmen  had 
no  shoes,  Denis,"  remarked  his  master,  "  or 
lost  them  in  running  —  to  our  eternal  shame  !  " 

"  That  was  n't  what  happened  to  me,  my 
lord,"  said  Denis  regretfully;  "  'twas  a  black 
day  fer  Ireland ;  yer  lordship  niver  spake  a 
thruer  word  !  But,  as  fer  me,  my  shoes  had 
bin  running  away  from  me  so  —  the  very  divil 
seemed  to  be  in  'em  —  that  I  cut  some  stout 
116 


Master  and  Man 

thongs  of  hide  and  bound  those  boots  to  me 

o 

legs  before  I  wint  into  the  battle,  fer,  thought 
I,  av  I  don't  I  '11  be  afther  losing  them,  the 
jewels  !  I  was  right  in  the  thick  of  it,  an'  a 
hot  day  it  was,  as  yer  honor  knows,  and  but  for 
that  divil  of  a  Dutchman  that  they  call  king, 
we  moight  have  won,  but  he  drove  his  men 
through  the  river  loike  a  demon  !  Well,  sir,  I 
was  right  in  the  thick  of  the  carnage  ;  I  'd  jist 
cut  a  clane  swathe  through  the  Dutch  Blues, 
and  I  was  dating  death  and  desthruction  on 
ivery  side,  following  in  th'  thrack  of  Sarsfield, 
whin,  all  of  a  suddent,  me  shoes  turned  me 
around  and  comminced  to  run.  I  was  beside 
meself  with  the  shame  of  it,  me  lord.  I  cut  at 
those  thongs  with  my  sword  an'  I  swore  an' 
called  on  the  saints  and  the  divils,  but  niver  a 
bit  could  I  get  those  boots  off,  and  away  they 
ran,  loike  the  wind,  splash  through  the  mud 
and  the  mire,  and  they  niver  sthopped  until 
we  reached  Dublin  ;  but,  my  lord,"  Denis 
lowered  his  voice  and  winked  one  eye,  "  even 
my  shoes  did  n't  get  there  —  before  King 
James  !  " 

"  Alas,  no,"  said  his  master  sternly,  "  it  was 
a  king  we  lacked,"  and  he  rose  and  walked 
twice  across  the  room,  his  face  darkly  clouded. 

His  man  watched  him  keenly,  with  an  ex- 
117 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

pression  of  deep  concern  and  simple  affection, 
—  the  humble  devotion  of  a  faithful  dog. 

"  You  will  clean  my  sword  and  call  me  an 
hour  before  sunrise,  Denis,"  he  said  ;  "  I  will 
snatch  some  hours'  rest,  even  if  it  happens  to  be 
my  turn  to-morrow,"  and  he  laughed  as  he  began 
to  cast  off  his  garments  with  his  servant's  help. 

Denis  shook  his  head  sadly.  "  Ah,  me 
Lord  Clancarty,"  he  said  with  a  break  in  his 
voice,  "  't  would  be  a  sad  day  fer  me,  and 
you  are  so  ready  to  die  with  a  smile  on  your 
lips.  Ye  were  iver  so,  but  ye  '11  break  a  heart 
some  day,  me  lord,  jist  as  recklessly  —  an'  ye  '11 
forgive  me  fer  saying  it." 

"  There  is  not  much  that  I  would  not  forgive 
you,  old  Denis,"  said  the  young  nobleman 
kindly,  "  we  're  old  friends  and  tried.  But 
what  have  I  to  live  for  at  best,  unless  it  be  the 
headsman's  block  ?  I  am  a  proscribed  and 
penniless  outlaw,  Denis ;  if,  by  any  chance, 
I  am  recognized,  I  go  to  the  Tower.  I  have 
no  friends  here;  not  even  my  wife  knows  who 
I  am  —  and  why  should  she?  It  seems  but 
folly  to  think  of  her,  when  I  have  only  an 
exile's  life  to  offer  her  —  I  am  a  fool,  a 
wretched  fool ! " 

"  Indade,  me  lord,  ye  greatly  misjudge  a 
woman  av  you  think  she  '11  be  afther  counting 

118 


Master  and  Man 

yer  money  —  or  the  costs  ayther,"  said  Denis 
quietly  ;  "  a  woman  niver  thinks  of  it,  bless 
her  heart,  she  jist  falls  in  love,  and  thin  to  the 
divil  with  prudence  or  wisdom  ayther.  And, 
by  the  Virgin,  me  Lady  Clancarty  is  none  of 
yer  cowards.  I  Ve  sane  the  spark  in  her  aye, 
me  lord,  and  if  it  plazes  her,  she  '11  fight  yer 
battles,  sir,  to  the  ind  of  time." 

Lord  Clancarty  smiled.  {<  Exactly,  Denis," 
said  he,  "  but  if  I  do  not  please  her  ?  " 

Denis  was  on  his  knees,  drawing  off  his 
master's  shoes. 

"  She  'd  be  a  blind  woman,  thin,  sir,"  he 
said,  "and  faix,  I'll  wager  me  lady  knows  a 
foine  man  whin  she  sees  wan.  But,  pshaw,  sir, 
by  to-morrow  night  ye  may  be  stark  and  stiff 
and  ready  for  the  churchyard,"  and  Denis 
shook  his  head  dolefully. 

The  earl  laughed,  throwing  himself  upon  his 
hard  bed. 

"  Put  out  the  taper,  Denis,"  he  said,  "we  '11 
hope  for  the  best.  If  I  can't  live  for  my  lady, 
at  least  I  can  die  for  her  —  with  a  light  heart," 
and  he  turned  his  face  to  the  wall  with  a  laugh. 

Denis  wiped  his  eyes  on  his  sleeve  and 
wagged  his  head  again  and  again,  his  mind  on 
the  morrow. 


119 


nr 


CHAPTER   XIII 

LADY    BETTY    TAKES    THE    FIELD 

HE  sun  had  not  yet  risen :  earth  and 
sky  were  softly  gray  and  brown,  with 

•*•  green  where  the  meadows  lay,  and 
purple  in  the  shadows.  Morning,  like  a  white 
flower  with  a  heart  of  gold,  opened  in  the  east. 
Shafts  of  light  —  the  sun's  gold-tipped  arrows 
—  quivered  on  the  distant  hills,  while  the 
vapors,  smokelike  and  fantastic,  floated  along 
the  level  lands  and  the  trees  loomed  spectre- 
like. 

It  was  chilly,  too,  with  the  chill  of  dawn  in 
the  early  autumn,  and  Lord  Clancarty  and 
young  Mackie  were  muffled  in  their  cloaks  as 
they  walked  across  the  fields  together.  The 
Irishman  was  smiling,  in  his  usual  daring 
fashion,  but  the  younger  man  was  sober  and 
even  nervous  as  he  listened  to  him. 

"  I  have  to  thank  you,  Sir  Edward,"  Clan- 
carty said,  "  for  standing  by  a  stranger,  but  I 
should  look  for  no  less  at  your  hands." 

120 


Lady  Betty  takes  the  Field 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  serve  you,  Mr.  Trevor," 
the  young  man  replied,  blushing  like  a  girl,  "  I 
thought  Lord  Savile's  attitude  toward  you 
quite  unwarranted." 

"  We  Irishmen  do  not  look  for  courtesy  at 
the  hands  of  our  conquerors,  except  in  a  few 
rare  instances,"  Clancarty  said ;  "  but  it  is  due 
to  you,  Sir  Edward,  to  tell  you  that  my  name 
is  not  Trevor;  I  assumed  it  for  convenience 
only ;  I  am  the  proscribed  exile,  Donough 
Macarthy  of  Clancarty." 

Young  Mackie  stopped  short  with  a  gasp. 

"  Lady  Clancarty's  husband !  "  he  cried, 
turning  deadly  pale. 

Lord  Clancarty  bowed.  "  The  same,"  he 
said  smiling,  "  and  in  telling  you,  I  confide  in 
your  honor  not  to  reveal  my  identity  —  even 
to  Lady  Clancarty,  unless  I  fall,  and  then  —  I 
would  have  her  ladyship  know  that  she  was 
free." 

But  young  Mackie  had  not  yet  recovered 
his  composure ;  he  stared  at  the  earl  strangely. 

"  Does  she  not  divine  your  identity  ?  "  he 
asked,  and  the  pain  in  his  face  was  so  easy  to 
read  that  Lady  Clancarty's  husband  smiled 
again. 

"  I  think  not,"  he  responded  ;  "  but  we  must 
go  on  unless  we  would  be  tardy  at  keeping  the 

121 


My  Lady  Clancarty 

tryst."  Then  he  glanced  sharply  at  the  boy, 
"  I  take  it  for  granted  that  you  are  willing  to 
stand  by  me ;  if  not  —  I  fully  pardon  you,  Sir 
Edward,  and  I  can  go  alone." 

Young  Mackie's  face  crimsoned. 

"Nay,  my  lord,"  he  said  bluntly,  "I  did 
not  offer  to  stand  by  you  for  love,  but  for 
honor's  sake,  and  now  —  I  will  —  for  her  sake," 
and  he  raised  his  hat  reverently. 

Lord  Clancarty  bared  his  own  head  and 
kissed  the  hilt  of  his  sword. 

"  For  her  dear  sake,  sir,"  he  said  ;  "  so  let 
it  be,  I  love  you  for  it,"  and  they  walked  on 
in  silence. 

They  passed  through  the  grove  of  limes 
and  entered  the  field.  As  they  did  so,  the  sun- 
beams, sloping  from  the  hills,  fell  on  the  tree 
tops,  but  the  long  meadow  was  in  the  shadow. 
The  sweetness  of  new-mown  hay  was  in  the  air ; 
there  was  a  glint  of  white  blossoming  still  upon 
the  hedgerow,  and  beyond,  the  red  brown  of 
new  turned  earth  and  green,  the  green  of  the 
turf  and  the  hawthorn. 

Across  the  meadow  from  the  farther  side 
came  Lord  Savile  and  Mr.  Benham,  and  as 
the  two  parties  approached  they  saluted 
courteously.  Clancarty  was  smiling,  gracious, 
perfectly  at  ease,  but  his  opponent  scowled 

122 


Lady  Betty  takes  the  Field 

sullenly;  some  instinct  —  a  brute  one  doubt- 
less—  made  him  hate  this  daring  Irishman. 
Sir  Edward,  full  of  boyish  importance,  beckoned 
Mr.  Benham  aside. 

"  Can't  we  adjust  this  difference,  sir  ?  "  he 
asked ;  "  there  is  a  serious  reason  why  they 
should  not  fight." 

Benham  stared  at  him  coolly.  "To  be  sure, 
so  I  supposed,"  he  drawled  indifferently  ;  "  but 
Savile  will  give  you  twenty  reasons  why  they 
should." 

"  For  all  that,  we  might  adjust  it  honorably," 
urged  Mackie,  with  feverish  anxiety. 

"  Pshaw,  man,  we  can't !  "  said  Benham, 
with  contempt ;  "  they  're  both  in  love  with  the 
same  woman.  You  are  inexperienced,  sir,"  he 
added  aloud,  smiling  scornfully.  "  Measure 
the  paces,  Sir  Edward  ;  the  sun  is  rising,  and 
the  advantage  will  lie  then  with  the  man  whose 
back  is  toward  it.  We  will  draw  lots,  sir,  so 
—  ah,  Lord  Savile  has  drawn  the  best  position," 
and  he  laughed  complacently. 

Young  Mackie,  crimsoned  with  confusion 
and  annoyance,  made  no  further  effort  at  a 
compromise ;  instead  he  busied  himself  with 
the  weapons  and  in  helping  Lord  Clancarty 
strip  off  coat  and  waistcoat.  Then  the  two 
men  confronted  each  other,  sword  in  hand,  and 
123 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

as  they  did  so  the  sun  looked  over  the  horizon 
and  the  meadow  suddenly  lay  in  a  golden  mist 
as  the  sparks  flew  from  the  steel. 

This  was  the  picture  that  Betty  saw  floating 
in  a  golden  haze,  two  strong,  lithe  figures 
swaying  lightly  from  side  to  side  and  the  flash 
of  their  naked  swords  at  play. 

"  For  shame  !  "  she  cried,  thrusting  their 
weapons  aside  with  her  own  white  hands,  "  for 
shame !  So,  there  is  no  better  cause  for  a  fight 
than  a  song? " 

At  the  sight  of  her  the  two  men  stepped 
back  in  sheer  amazement,  sinking  their  sword 
points  in  the  ground  at  her  feet. 

"Ay,  shame  on  you  both  !"  she  cried  with 
sparkling  eyes ;  "'tis  but  a  pretty  fashion  of 
murder  —  and  I  '11  none  of  it!  Put  up  your 
weapons,  gentlemen,  for  he  who  draws  his  here 
is  my  friend  no  more !  " 

Lord  Savile's  sword  leaped  into  its  sheath, 
but  Clancarty  kissed  the  hilt  of  his  and  handed 
it  to  Lady  Betty. 

"  Madam,  my  honor  is  involved,"  he  said, 
"  and  I  place  it  in  your  hands." 

The  color  rose  in  her  cheeks  and  she  turned 
on  Savile. 

"  My  lord,"  she  said  wilfully,  "  I  heard  it 
all,  and  't  is  you  who  should  ask  pardon." 

124 


Lady  Betty  takes  the  Field 

Savile  flushed  darkly  and  folded  his  arms. 

"  My  lady,"  he  said,  "  my  sword  is  at  your 
service,  but  you  ask  too  much  now." 

"  Ah,  you  will  not  trust  me  with  your  honor, 
my  lord,"  she  retorted,  with  a  little  laugh. 

"  Nay,"  he  replied  testily,  "  a  man  may  not 
grovel  to  his  foe." 

"  Oh,"  said  Lady  Betty,  and  she  glanced  at 
him  archly,  "is  your  reasoning  quite  sound, 
my  lord  ? " 

Savile  bit  his  lip ;  he  saw  Lord  Clancarty 
smile  and  brush  a  fallen  leaf  from  his  sleeve 
with  elaborate  care. 

"  Come,  come,"  interposed  Mr.  Benham, 
"  let  there  be  peace,  since  my  lady  wills  it ; 
and  here,  too,  is  young  Mackie  pining  to 
mediate.  My  lord,  we  cannot  quarrel  before 
a  lady,"  and  he  spoke  a  few  words  very  low 
in  Savile's  ear. 

Betty,  meanwhile,  stood  between  them, 
holding  Clancarty's  sword  in  her  hand ;  her 
tall  young  figure  outlined  in  the  heavenly 
morning  sunshine,  and  the  glory  of  the  day  in 
her  eyes. 

"  To  put  up  your  sword  is  naught,  my  lord, 
unless  there  be  peace,"  she  said,  smiling  ingen- 
uously, "  pshaw,  what  a  petty  quarrel  !  'T  is 
like  two  women  over  a  cup  of  tea  or  a  new 
125 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

gown,"  and  she  shrugged  her  shoulders  pret- 
tily. 

Lord  Savile  crossed  over  to  Clancarty. 

"  Your  hand,  sir,"  he  said,  and  then,  as  he 
clasped  it,  very  low,  "  another  time  and  another 
place." 

"  I  am  always  at  your  service,"  replied 
Clancarty  with  a  scornful  smile,  and  he  took 
out  his  handkerchief  and  wiped  the  palm  of 
his  right  hand. 

The  gesture  made  Lady  Betty  smile  and  bite 
her  lip,  though  she  had  not  heard  the  undertone. 

"  Faith,  the  morning  is  so  lovely  that  it 
augurs  a  peaceful  day,"  she  said,  with  her 
sweetest  manner.  "  Gentlemen,  you  are  all 
bidden  to  join  my  Lady  Sunderland  and  me  at 
eleven  for  a  cup  of  chocolate  before  we  go  to 
the  races." 

"  Who  could  refuse  ? "  Mr.  Benham  said 
gallantly ;  "  when  men  make  peace  for  your 
sake,  my  lady,  what  would  they  not  do  ? " 

But  Lady  Betty's  quick  eye  caught  the 
gloom  on  the  boyish  face  of  young  Mackie. 
She  held  out  her  hand. 

"  Sir  Edward,  you  will  take  me  home  to  the 
inn  ?  "  she  said. 

He  colored  like  a  girl  and  involuntarily 
glanced  at  Lord  Clancarty  ;  then  catching  his 

126 


Lady  Betty  takes  the  Field 

lordship's  falcon  eye,  he  bowed  in  deep  confu- 
sion. . 

"  I  'm  only  too  happy,  my  lady,"   he  said. 

She  stood  quite  still,  her  bright  eyes  on 
Lord  Savile  and  Mr.  Benham.  Then  she 
pointed  with  her  finger  toward  the  farther  end 
of  the  field. 

"  Yonder,"  she  said,  "  one  combatant  and  his 
friend  retire,  and,"  she  turned  quickly,  pointing 

in  the  opposite  direction,  "  yonder,  the  others 

i " 
go! 

Clancarty  laughed.  "A  safe  device,  my 
lady,"  he  said,  "  but  I  could  not  fight  without 
my  sword." 

She  blushed  prettily  and  held  it  out  to  him. 

"  I  forgot,  sir,"  she  said. 

He  took  it  gracefully,  kissing  the  hand  that 
gave  it  in  spite  of  her  quick  frown  of  dis- 
pleasure. 

Lord  Savile  bowed  profoundly,  his  hand  on 
his  heart. 

"  Madam,  I  obey,"  he  said  gallantly,  and 
retreated  with  Mr.  Benham  in  the  direction 
she  had  chosen,  and  at  the  same  time  Lord 
Clancarty  went  in  the  other,  leaving  Lady 
Betty  alone  in  the  field  with  young  Mackie. 

Hovering  in  the  distance  was  the  muffled 
figure  of  Alice,  who  had  accompanied  her 
127 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

mistress  to  the  grove  of  limes  and  halted  there, 
with  her  fingers  in  her  ears,  lest  she  should 
hear  the  clash  of  swords. 

But  Lady  Betty  saw  her  not,  nor  the  glory  of 
the  day,  nor  the  green  of  hedgerows  and  fields, 
nor  the  blooming  daisy  at  her  feet.  Her  eyes 
followed  the  figure  of  Clancarty,  and  there  was 
a  shadow  on  her  face.  She  shivered  and  drew 
her  cloak  about  her. 

"  Come,  Sir  Edward,"  she  said,  "  we  must 
run  for  it ;  I  am  a  truant,  and  Lord  Spencer 
will  put  me  upon  bread  and  water  if  he  finds  me 
upon  such  errands,  and  faith,  sir,  I  deserve  it !  " 


128 


CHAPTER    XIV 

THE    INN    GARDEN 

BETWEEN  two  vases  that  overflowed 
with  scarlet  geraniums,  the  worn  stone 
steps  of  the  inn-yard  descended  directly 
upon  a  gravel  path  in  the  old  garden.  The 
path  —  flanked  on  either  side  by  tall  hedges 
—  wound  completely  around  the  garden  and 
through  the  centre,  in  a  kind  of  true  lovers' 
knot,  in  the  loops  of  which  were  all  old- 
fashioned  flowers;  pale  tea  roses  —  the  last  of 
September's  bloom  —  and  mignonette ;  pansies 
and  rosemary  grew  there,  and  the  blue  of  lark- 
spur. Only  a  few  windows  looked  out  upon 
it,  and  it  was  a  secluded  spot  where  the  sun 
shone  and  the  pigeons  flocked.  So  still  was  it, 
in  the  farther  corners,  that  there  was  scarcely  a 
sound  but  the  soft  "  kourre,  kourre  !  "  of  the 
feathered  visitors. 

Here  Lady  Betty  walked  slowly,  her  hands 
behind  her,  her  head  a  little  on  one  side,  as  she 
talked  to  Clancarty,  whom  she  still  knew  only 
9  129 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

as  Richard  Trevor.  She  was  dressed  in  white, 
a  bunch  of  red  flowers  at  her  belt  and  red 
plumes  in  her  hat,  and  either  its  broad  brim 
or  her  mood  cast  a  shadow  in  her  eyes.  They 
were  softer,  more  pensive,  and  less  sparkling 
than  usual. 

"  I  was  only  eleven  years  old,  sir,"  she  said, 
"  a  mere  baby,  and  I  have  never  seen  Lord 
Clancarty  since.  How  should  I  know  how 
he  looks  ?  Is  not  my  curiosity  pardonable  ? 
Pray,  Mr.  Trevor,  describe  him." 

Her  companion  had  been  watching  her 
keenly  and  now  he  smiled. 

"  I  'm  poor  at  descriptions,  my  lady,"  he 
said  calmly,  "  but  take  my  word  for  it, 
Clancarty  's  a  handsome  man." 

"  About  your  height,  sir  ? "  asked  Lady 
Betty,  casting  a  quizzical,  sidelong  glance  at 
him. 

He  took  time  to  consider.  "  Very  nearly, 
I  should  think,  Lady  Clancarty,"  he  said, 
"  and  straight  as  an  arrow  —  with  a  good  head 
and  keen  eyes,  a  fine  nose,  a  firm  chin  —  oh, 
a  very  handsome  rascal,  madam,  and  quite 
unworthy  of  you." 

"Indeed,"  said  Betty,  amused;  "you  take 
the  side,  then,  of  my  family  ;  they  too  believe 
him  unworthy." 

130 


The  Inn  Garden 

"  He  is  unworthy,  madam,"  said  the  dis- 
guised nobleman  gravely,  "  he  is  unworthy  ; 
but,  in  spite  of  that,  I  can't  advise  you  to 
cast  him  off.  But  for  his  skill  as  a  swords- 
man I  should  have  lost  my  life ;  I  am  there- 
fore, of  necessity,  his  true  vassal,  Lady 
Clancarty,  and  I  must  plead  his  cause." 

Lady  Betty's  face  changed  and  she  made  a 
petulant  gesture. 

"  No  one  can  plead  it,  sir/'  she  said  sharply, 
"  he  should  plead  it  himself." 

"  He  should  indeed,  madam,"  he  said  ear- 
nestly, "but  how  ?  Many  things  keep  back  a 
proscribed  exile  and  a  beggar.  How  can  he 
plead  his  cause  with  the  heiress  of  an  earl,  a 
beautiful  and  gifted  and  wealthy  woman  ? 
What  can  he  offer  her  ?  A  life  of  exile, 
poverty,  and  obscurity  ?  My  Lady  Clancarty, 
any  proud  man  might  well  pause." 

But  Betty's  chin  was  elevated,  her  eyes 
scornful. 

"The  pride  is,  of  course,  all  on  his  side, 
sir,"  she  said  coolly ;  "  there  is  naught  to  be 
said  for  her.  How,  think  you,  does  a  woman 
feel  who  is  deserted  by  her  husband  ?  Ay, 
more,  who  is  unacknowledged  by  him  — 
unclaimed  !  " 

He  started  and  looked  at  her  earnestly. 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

"You  are  right,  madam,"  he  said,  "it  is  a 
grievous  fault.  I  despise  my  Lord  Clancarty 
for  it,  but  I  know  that  the  day  will  come  when 
he  will  sue  for  your  forgiveness  with  all  his 
heart.  And  he  has  never  known  you.  He 
has  been  in  battles,  in  sieges,  in  exile,  in 
poverty,  in  illness,  and  he  was  but  a  lad  when 
you  were  wedded.  My  lady,  I  can  say  no 
more,  even  for  him ;  I  would  fain  say  it  for 
myself — but  for  him." 

She  flashed  a  startled,  wondering  look  at 
him  ;  her  heart  stood  still  —  after  all,  was  he  ? 
was  he  not?  She  did  not  know,  but  his  eyes 
held  her ;  she  blushed,  palpitated,  shrank  like 
a  mere  child.  From  the  first,  she  had  thought 
this  man  her  husband,  but  now  —  ?  An  awful 
doubt  shook  her  soul.  Could  it  be  that  he 
was  not  ?  She  put  out  her  hands  with  a  strange 
gesture  as  though  she  would  hold  him  off. 

"'Tis  fourteen  years,  sir,"  she  said,  "and 
he  has  never  written  me  one  word  —  or  to  my 
family  for  me." 

"  That  is  not  true,"  he  replied  gravely  ;  "  I 
know,  from  Lord  Clancarty's  own  lips,  that  he 
has  written  to  your  father  within  a  short  time, 
ay,  madam,  twice  since  the  Peace  of  Ryswick." 

"  Ah,"  said  Lady  Betty,  for  a  light  broke 
in  upon  her,  and  she  thought  of  the  tall  old 

132 


The  Inn  Garden 

man  walking  in  the  gallery  at  Althorpe, 
"  I  never  knew  it,"  she  added  quietly,  "  my 
whole  family  opposes  any  mention  of —  of  my 
husband." 

She  pronounced  the  word  with  a  soft  adora- 
ble hesitation,  blushing  rosily  up  to  her  very 
ears,  and  his  eyes  glowed  as  he  looked  at  her. 
They  turned  a  loop  of  the  gravel  walk  and 
passed  Melissa,  who  huddled  against  the  hedge, 
courtesying  low.  Betty  scarcely  glanced  at 
her. 

"  Then  there  is  no  one  to  plead  my  friend's 
cause  but  your  own  heart,  Lady  Clancarty,"  he 
said  quietly,  "  your  own  heart  and  the  tie  that 
must  plead  for  itself  a  little.  I  have  no  elo- 
quence to  match  the  occasion,  willingly  as  I 
serve  my  benefactor." 

"  I  tell  you  plainly,  sir,"  she  retorted,  "  that 
I  will  hear  only  one  suit,  and  that  is  from  him  ; 
nor  will  I,  mark  you,  promise  to  hear  that 
favorably.  Love,  sir,  is  not  cold  and  a  lag- 
gard and  full  of  excuses.  If  I  am  worth  hav- 
ing I  am  worth  winning." 

"  Madam,  I  am  constrained  to  tell  the  truth," 
he  said  in  a  tone  of  deep  emotion  ;  "  I  believe 
that  Lord  Clancarty  would  die  to  win  you." 

"  Die,  sir,"  she  said  archly,  "  rather  live. 
Dead  he  could  not  win  me." 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

"  Ay,  and  't  would  be  the  bitterness  of  death 
to  lose  you,"  he  said  ;  "  't  is  so  —  even  to 
think  of  it!" 

The  break  in  his  words  made  her  heart  beat 
fast,  but  she  was  mistress  of  herself  now. 

"  Especially  after  fourteen  years  of  absence," 
she  mocked  wickedly. 

"  Fourteen  years  in  purgatory,  madam,"  he 
replied,  his  tone  full  of  pathos,  of  powerful 
emotion  under  restraint ;  "  and  when  the  poor 
exile  sees  at  last  the  gates  of  paradise  !  —  ah, 
my  lady,  you  will  not  close  them  in  his  face  ?  " 

She  bowed  her  head  a  little,  looking  pen- 
sively at  the  ground.  A  thousand  emotions 
swept  across  her  charming  face.  Then  she 
looked  up,  her  eyes  dancing  with  mischief,  — 
arch,  naughty,  daring. 

"A  singular  paradise  for  my  Lord  Clan- 
carty,"  she  said,  "  a  paradise  with  a  Whiggish 
Protestant  wife  in  it,  and  a  Whiggish  Protes- 
tant mother-in-law,  and  the  greatest  Whig  in 
England  for  a  brother-in-law.  Sir,  I  need 
enumerate  no  more." 

The  Irishman  laughed  a  little  bitterly. 

"  Madam,"  he  said,  with  daring  tenderness 
in  his  tone,  "  you  know  not  what  love  is  ! 
Who  would  count  the  cost  —  who  loved  ?  By 
all  the  saints,  my  lady,  love  burns  away  both 

'34 


The  Inn  Garden 

politics  and  creeds ;  death  itself  is  beaten  by 
it  —  and  hell !  Ah,  to  teach  you  how  to  love. 
'T  would  be  worth  purgatory !  "  his  gray  eyes 
flashed,  his  strong  face  set  itself  sternly. 

Lady  Betty  looking  at  him  drew  her  breath 
hard  ;  she  was  almost  frightened.  Here  was  a 
nature  she  could  not  conquer  and  she  could 
not  scorn.  She  bit  her  lip  and  looked  steadily 
away,  her  heart  beating  in  her  throat. 

"If  Lord  Clancarty  came  here,"  he  said 
after  a  moment,  in  a  constrained  voice,  "  would 
you  see  him  ?  would  you  listen  to  him  ?  " 

She  hesitated ;  she  no  longer  believed  that 
this  man  might  be  her  husband  ;  he  had  suc- 
ceeded in  misleading  her,  and  her  whole  soul 
was  tossing  and  burning  in  the  fire  of  a  new  and 
passionate  emotion,  but  she  tried  to  think. 

"  I  would  see  him,  yes,"  she  said  with  white 
lips,  glancing  defiantly  at  him,  "  he  is  my 
husband." 

His  eyes  darkened  and  his  face  changed ; 
she  could  not  read  it.  They  had  come  back 
to  the  old  stone  steps.  At  the  top  appeared 
Lady  Sunderland  and  Lady  Dacres,  too  far  off 
as  yet  to  be  heard. 

"  He  shall  come,  then,  my  lady,"  he  said 
very  low,  looking  straight  into  her  eyes,  "  he 
shall  come  —  if  he  dies  for  it." 


My  Lady  Clancarty 

Lady  Betty's  face  was  as  white  as  her  gown, 
and  her  fingers  trembled  as  she  swept  her  skirts 
aside  on  either  hand  and  courtesied  gracefully. 

"  I  bid  you  adieu,  sir,"  she  said,  and  walked 
up  the  steps  just  as  Lady  Sunderland  called 
out  sharply,— 

"  Betty,  Betty,  come  and  take  tea  with  us, 
my  love,  and  teach  Lady  Dacres  that  old  game 
of 'Angel  Beast';  she  hath  forgotten  it.  La, 
how  white  you  are,  my  dear;  a  touch  of  rouge 
and  a  patch  —  you  look  like  a  ghost." 

"  I  am,  madam,"  said  Lady  Betty. 

And  the  two  dames  stared. 

That  night  the  ruthless  Lady  Betty  awakened 
her  attendant. 

"  Alice,"  she  said,  "  hast  ever  heard  the 
legend  of  King  Arthur  ?  " 

The  poor  handmaid  yawned. 

"Nay,  madam,"  she  replied  sleepily,  "who 
was  he  ? " 

"  A  king  of  long  ago,  Alice,"  Lady  Betty 
explained,  "  I  have  heard  the  legend  from  my 
old  Welsh  nurse,  and  part  of  it  relates  to  his 
wife,  his  queen.  She  was  very  beautiful,  and 
she  had  never  seen  the  king  when  the  marriage 
was  arranged." 

"  Oh,  mercy  on  us,  madam ! "  exclaimed 
136 


The  Inn  Garden 

Alice,  "  and  she  did  n't  know  what  he  looked 
like?" 

"  Not  at  all,"  declared  her  mistress,  "  and 
she  set  out  with  all  her  maidens  to  go  to  his 
kingdom  to  be  married  —  " 

"Indeed,  my  lady,  couldn't  he  come  for 
her  —  like  a  decent  civil  gentleman?"  asked 
Alice  rousing  up. 

"  No,  no,  he  could  n't  come,"  said  Lady 
Clancarty,  "  but  he  sent  his  best  friend,  a 
brave  and  noble  knight,  to  meet  her,  and  she 
—  she  thought  he  was  the  king  in  disguise 
and  —  and  she  fell  in  love  with  him,  and  when 
she  found  out  her  mistake,  and  that  the  king 
was  wholly  unlike  this  knight,  she  couldn't  love 
her  husband  —  she  loved  instead  his  friend." 

"  My  goodness,  Lady  Betty,  how  improper ! " 
said  Alice  horrified,  "  his  friend  was  a  false 
man  —  and  no  true  knight !  " 

Lady  Betty  had  been  sitting  on  the  edge  of 
Alice's  bed  but  she  rose  now  and  stood  quite 
still,  her  white  figure  showing  in  the  darkness. 

"  But,  Alice,  she  was  so  beautiful,  so  fasci- 
nating—  he  could  n't  help  it,  he  loved  her!" 

"  He  could  help  it,"  said  Alice  stoutly,  "  he 
stole  her  love  from  her  husband  !  He  could 
help  it,  just  as  a  man  can  help  stealing  a 
horse." 

137 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

Betty  gave  a  little  gasp. 

"  And  the  queen  ?  "  she  said  faintly. 

"  She  was  a  very  wicked  woman,  madam," 
declared  the  moralist,  shaking  up  her  pillows 
vigorously.  "  They  do  say  that  King  Charles 
had  an  awful  court ;  perhaps  it  was  the 
fashion." 

"  Perhaps  it  was,"  admitted  Lady  Betty, 
and  crept  softly  back  to  bed  and  wept  salt 
tears  in  solitude. 


138 


CHAPTER   XV 

MY     LADY     SUNDERLAND     TAKES     TEA 

A  SMOKING  teapot  and  some  cups  of 
India  ware  adorned  a  table  of  polished 
mahogany,  the  very  best  tea  service  in 
the  possession  of  the  landlord  of  the  Lion's 
Head.  And  before  it  sat  Lady  Sunderland 
and  her  intimate,  Lady  Dacres.  Opposite, 
Lady  Betty  was  stirring  a  cup  of  chocolate. 
There  was  a  little  black  patch  on  her  white 
forehead  and  another  on  the  tip  of  her  rosy 
chin,  and  her  gown  of  gold-colored  paduasoy 
became  her  well. 

A  servant  brought  in  a  tray  with  some 
glasses  and  a  bottle  of  usquebaugh,  and  served 
the  elder  dames,  who  had  been  pretending  to 
sip  tea.  The  two  worthies  were  just  from  the 
cockpit  and  had  won  forty  pounds  between 
them.  Lady  Sunderland,  in  a  flowered  brocade, 
with  a  painted  and  patched  face,  could  do 
nothing  but  simper,  and  even  old  Lady  Dacres 
grinned  placidly,  while  the  younger  countess 
139 


My  Lady  C  lane  arty 

watched  them  from  under  her  dark  lashes  and 
made  no  comments. 

"  La,  Betty,  there  never  was  such  an  obliging 
man  as  young  Savile,"  said  Lady  Sunderland, 
sipping  her  usquebaugh  ;  "  he  ran  about  at  the 
cockpit  to  wait  upon  us,  and  his  wit  —  take 
my  word  for  it,  we  'd  have  lost  fifty  pounds 
but  for  his  judgment  of  the  birds." 

"  Oh,  he  knows  whose  mamma  to  wait 
upon  ! "  said  Lady  Dacres,  with  a  sly  wink  at 
her  friend ;  "  how  sweet  the  young  fellows  are 
to  the  mother  of  such  a  daughter." 

Lady  Sunderland  tittered.  "  There  was  a 
time  when  I  thought  it  was  the  mamma  and 
not  the  daughter,"  she  said,  with  a  simper; 
"  but  now  it 's,  c  How  's  Lady  Clancarty  ? '  and 
f Where's  your  ladyship's  daughter?'  and 
*  My  compliments  to  the  fair  Lady  Elizabeth.' 
La,  how  the  beaux  smirk  and  bow  ! " 

"  Now 's  your  chance,  Betty,  dear,"  said 
Lady  Dacres ;  "  don't  make  'em  dance  too 
long,  my  girl,  we  can't  be  young  but  once." 

Betty  gave  her  a  cold  stare.  "  I  'm  already 
married,  madam,"  she  said,  and  pushed  the 
bottle  nearer  to  the  elbow  of  the  old  peeress ; 
"take  another  drop,  my  lady,  'twill  sustain 
you  under  the  blow." 

Lady  Sunderland  set  down  her  glass  and 
140 


My  Lady  Sunder  land  takes  'Tea 

fixed  her  daughter  with  an  irate  eye,  but  before 
she  could  give  voice  to  her  wrath  they  were 
interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  Lord  Spencer. 
He  came  in  with  an  air  of  cool  elegance,  fault- 
lessly attired,  and  bowing  gracefully  to  the 
three  women,  kissed  his  mother's  hand,  and 
took  his  place  with  his  back  to  the  window, 
overlooking  them  with  an  air  of  superiority 
that  was  peculiarly  exasperating  to  his  high- 
spirited  sister. 

"  La,  my  dear,  what  a  happy  woman  you 
are,"  Lady  Dacres  said,  in  an  audible  aside  to 
Lady  Sunderland,  "  to  be  the  mother  of  two 
such  beautiful  children.  'Pon  my  soul,  Spencer 
would  have  broken  my  heart  at  eighteen  !  " 

"  Nay,  you  would  have  broken  mine, 
madam,"  Lord  Spencer  replied  gracefully. 

She  giggled  and  took  another  draught 
of  usquebaugh,  following  Lady  Clancarty's 
suggestion. 

"  Tell  us  the  news,  Spencer,"  said  Lady 
Betty  impatiently,  with  a  contemptuous  glance 
at  the  old  woman. 

"  The  king  is  better,"  said  her  brother,  with 
a  drawl,  "and  the  Princess  of  Denmark  did 
not  go  out  to-day  because  of  a  quarrel  with 
Lady  Marlborough." 

"  Poor  soul,  she  's  little  better  than  a 
141 


My  Lady  Clancarty 

slave,"  remarked  Betty  scornfully ;  "  is  that 
all  ?  " 

"  No  ;  the  news  of  the  day  is  the  duel.  It 
has  just  come  out  that  Sir  Thomas  Comp- 
ton  shot  and  killed  his  brother-in-law  last 
Tuesday." 

Lady  Sunderland  gave  a  little  scream  of 
surprise.  "What?  Shot  Lord  Fraunces  ?  " 

Spencer  nodded  gloomily. 

"  And  wherefore  ?  "  demanded  his  sister. 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Because  he  was  a  traitqfr,"  he  said  coolly  ; 
"  he  kept  his  horse  saddled  in  his  stable  ready 
for  flight,  and  two  grooms  at  his  beck  ;  this 
made  Compton  suspect  him.  So  he  went 
down  to  Deptford,  on  pretence  of  seeing  his 
sister,  and  he  found  the  fellow  was  in  league 
with  the  French  party  and  —  There  was  a 
quarrel  and  he  shot  him.  There  's  an  article 
about  it  in  the  Post-Boy." 

"  The  cold-hearted  brute  !  "  cried  Betty  ; 
"  his  poor  sister  loved  her  husband  dearly. 
Where  is  she  ?  " 

"  Mad  as  Bedlam,"  replied  her  brother 
coolly  ;  "  a  man  must  do  his  duty,  even  if  it 
kills  his  sister." 

"  Oh,  I  suppose  so,"  said  Lady  Betty,  rising, 
"  he  must  stab  her  to  the  heart  and  glory  in 
142 


My  Lady  Sunder  land  takes  Tea 

it  —  for  his  party,"  she  added  mockingly  ;  "  a 
fine  spirit,  sir,  I  admire  it  !  " 

"  So  do  I,"  he  replied  pompously,  staring 
at  her  with  hard  eyes ;  "  a  man  must  do  his 
duty,  like  a  Spartan,  to  his  king,  his  con- 
science, and  his  party.  There  are  examples 
enough  in  the  history  of  Greece  and  of  Rome, 
lofty  —  " 

"  Nonsense  !  "  cried  Lady  Betty  vigorously, 
"  to  the  wind  with,  your  examples.  Give  me 
a  noble  heart,  a  Christian  life,  a  brotherly  love, 
a  willingness  to  live  and  die  for  high  purposes. 
Poor  Lady  Fraunces  !  " 

"  Oh,  never  you  mind,  my  dear,"  put  in  old 
Lady  D acres,  with  a  titter,  "  she  '11  get  over  it. 
Grief  does  n't  kill ;  her  mother  had  three  hus- 
bands and — "  she  whispered  a  scandal  behind 
her  fan  to  Lady  Sunderland,  who  was  so  over- 
come with  her  wit  that  she  rocked  with  laughter, 
wiping  the  tears  from  her  eyes. 

"  Your  sympathy  is  quite  absurd,"  said 
Spencer,  looking  straight  into  Betty's  eyes. 
"  Sir  Thomas  did  his  duty.  I  would  have 
sent  a  traitor  brother-in-law  to  the  block, 
madam,  quite  as  cheerfully." 

"And  your  sister  also,  I  presume,"  she 
replied,  courtesying  profoundly ;  "  from  my 
heart  I  thank  you,  my  lord." 


My  Lady  C  lane  arty 

"  Oh,  la,  Betty,  drink  your  chocolate  and 
don't  be  a  fool,"  said  her  mother  petulantly. 

Betty  smiled  sweetly. 

"  I  thank  you,"  she  said,  "  I  have  quite 
finished  it.  I  will  send  some  more  to  my 
Lord  Spencer,"  and  she  walked  out  of  the 
room  with  her  head  in  the  air. 

Halfway  across  the  hall  she  met  a  servant, 
the  Irishman  Denis.  He  stopped  her  with  a 
bow,  one  hand  on  his  heart  and  an  air  of  great 
secrecy  and  gallantry,  and  he  handed  her  a 
letter.  She  took  it  as  silently,  and  when  she 
reached  her  own  door  she  hid  it  in  her  bosom 
for  she  knew  that  Alice  Lynn  was  there.  The 
girl  had  been  folding  up  her  ladyship's  finery 
and  looked  up  at  her  entrance. 

"  Everything  is  ready  now,  my  lady,"  she 
said,  "  and  if  it  pleases  you,  I  will  go  into  town 
a  little  way  to  buy  that  ribbon  for  you." 

"  Certainly,  Alice,"  Betty  assented  with  alac- 
rity, "  and  here  is  the  money ;  and  stop,  too,  at 
the  haberdasher's  and  buy  some  more  of  that 
silk ;  and  here,  my  girl,  get  some  pink  rib- 
bon for  that  Sunday  frock  of  yours,  I  will 
have  you  look  your  best." 

Alice  courtesied  and  thanked  her,  blushing 
with  pleasure. 

"  You  are  so  dear  a  mistress  to  me,  madam," 
144 


My  Lady  Sunderland  takes  Tea 

she  said  tenderly,  "I  am  not  half  worthy 
of  it." 

Lady  Clancarty  patted  her  cheek. 

"  Do  you  love  me,  Alice  ? "  she  asked 
pensively. 

"  Dearly,  madam,"  said  the  girl,  simply, 
"  and  I  would  serve  you  —  as  my  family  served 
yours  —  faithfully  forever." 

Lady  Betty  sighed. 

"  I  may  need  it,"  she  said,  and  busied  her- 
self examining  some  lace  and  ribbons  that 
Alice  had  just  laid  aside. 

"  I  trust  you  may  need  nothing  but  my  love 
and  service,  madam,"  Alice  said ;  "  may  happi- 
ness and  love  and  honor  ever  attend  my  dear, 
dear  lady,"  and  she  went  on  talking  cheerfully 
of  the  fair  day,  the  sunshine,  and  the  gay  scene 
without,  for  she  saw  a  shadow  on  the  countess' 
face  and  it  troubled  her  loyal  heart. 

But  Lady  Clancarty  said  not  a  word.  In- 
stead, her  eyes  avoided  the  girl's  honest  glance  ; 
she  blushed  and  paled  like  a  guilty  thing,  but 
an  adorable  smile  trembled  on  her  lips.  Not 
until  Alice  went  out,  closing  the  door  behind 
her,  did  Betty  move.  Then  she  shot  the 
bolts  and  drew  forth  the  paper  from  her  bosom  ; 
she  looked  over  her  shoulder,  smiled,  carried 
it  half  way  to  her  face,  started,  and  held  it  off 

10  145 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

again,  opening  it,  at  last,  under  the  window. 
The  sheet  was  closely  covered  with  writing 
and  she  read  it  eagerly,  and  her  hands  quivered 
so  that  the  paper  shook,  and  she  fell  on 
her  knees  beside  the  window  and  leaning  her 
arms  upon  the  sill,  buried  her  face  upon  them. 
She  knelt  there  a  long  time,  the  sunlight 
touching  her  hair  and  the  beautiful  curves  of 
her  shoulders.  After  a  while  she  rose,  and 
going  slowly  to  the  mirror  stood  looking  at 
herself,  the  crumpled  paper  in  her  hand.  Her 
face  was  white  as  snow  but  beautiful,  with  quite 
a  new  and  tender  beauty.  She  scarcely  knew 
herself,  even  when  she  smiled,  nodding  at  her 
own  reflection. 

"  'T  is  he  !  "  Lady  Betty  murmured  to  the 
mirror,  laughing  softly,  "'tis  he!  Oh,  my 
prophetic  heart —  I  knew  it!  " 


nr 


CHAPTER   XVI 

MY    LORD    CLANCARTY 

HERE  was  a  ball  that  night  at  New- 
market, but  Lady  Clancarty  did  not 
-*-  go,  in  spite  of  the  commands  and  en- 
treaties of  Lady  Sunderland.  The  elder  coun- 
tess was  particularly  anxious  to  display  her 
handsome  daughter  at  the  assembly,  and  nothing 
could  exceed  her  anger  and  chagrin  at  the 
younger  woman's  obstinacy.  By  afternoon  the 
quarrel  waxed  so  hot  that  Betty  pleaded  illness 
and  went  to  bed,  as  a  last  resort,  and  stayed 
there,  too,  in  spite  of  her  mother's  rage.  Lady 
Sunderland,  who  in  a  passion  could  forget 
herself  and  use  such  language  as  only  a  fish- 
wife or  a  woman  of  fashion  could  command, 
heaped  recriminations  on  her  daughter,  and 
screamed  and  chattered  and  swore  a  little,  too, 
for  my  lady  was  a  pupil  —  and  an  apt  one  — 
of  the  court  of  Charles  the  Second.  But  Lady 
Betty  was  more  than  her  match  in  wit  and 
strength  of  will,  and  she  won  the  victory. 
H7 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

When  the  hour  for  the  ball  arrived,  her  mother 
had  to  go  with  Lord  Spencer  and  leave  her 
daughter  calmly  ensconced  in  bed,  defiant  and 
triumphant.  The  Countess  of  Sunderland's 
chair  was  brought  to  the  inn  door,  preceded 
by  the  link-boys  with  their  lanthorns,  and  the 
lady  was  helped  into  it  by  her  son,  her  very 
headdress  quivering  with  rage  and  the  color  of 
the  paint  upon  her  cheeks  enhanced  by  the 
flush  of  anger. 

"  The  minx ! "  she  exclaimed  to  Spencer, 
"  I  don't  believe  she  's  ill  at  all ;  it 's  nothing 
but  her  obstinacy  and  some  fancy  she  has  about 
that  scapegrace,  Clancarty.  The  saucy  little 
baggage  defied  me,  and  looked  as  lovely  as  any 
nymph  all  the  time  !  Your  father  must  see  to 
it —  there  must  be  a  divorce  from  that  creature, 
or  next  thing,  she'll  run  away  to  France  with 
him  ;  she  's  equal  to  it,  the  little  wretch  ! " 

"  Never,  madam,"  said  Spencer  solemnly, 
"  I  'd  see  her  dead  first  —  before  she  disgraced 
the  family  !  " 

If  the  truth  be  told,  this  was  too  much  for 
the  countess ;  she  gasped  and  stared  uneasily 
at  this  self-righteous  young  man,  who  certainly 
resembled  her  as  little  as  he  did  the  versatile 
and  unprincipled  Sunderland. 

Meanwhile,  the  invalid  at  the  Lion's  Head 
\  148 


My  Lord  C  lane  arty 

had  miraculously  recovered  and  dressed  herself 
with  the  assistance  of  Alice,  who  viewed  the 
whole  proceeding  with  amazement  and  distinct 
disapproval.  She  knew  that  Lady  Clancarty 
had  not  been  ill  and  she  looked  upon  the  strat- 
agem as  an  unworthy  deceit.  Her  mistress, 
reading  her  as  easily  as  an  open  book,  under- 
stood the  girl's  mood  and  said  nothing  to  her. 
Instead,  she  set  her  the  task  of  lighting  the 
candles  in  the  room  where  she  received  her 
guests,  and  seeing  that  the  servant  replenished 
the  wood  fire  and  drew  the  curtains.  Finally 
she  came  in  herself,  a  charming  figure  in  pink, 
with  a  single  rose  in  her  hair.  Finding  every- 
thing arranged  to  her  satisfaction,  she  dismissed 
her  attendant  and  waited  quite  alone,  standing 
before  the  hearth  and  gazing  pensively  at  the 
fire.  Though  she  was  outwardly  calm,  a  storm 
was  raging  in  her  bosom.  He  had  asked  for 
this  interview  and  he  was  coming,  and  now  she 
shrank  from  the  thought  of  this  meeting  with 
sudden  trepidation.  She  bit  her  lip  and  stared 
into  the  fire,  but  her  hands  quivered  and  her 
heart  beat  almost  to  suffocation.  She  had 
thought  of  this  moment  many,  many  times  — 
girlish  day-dreams  of  her  lover  and  husband 
coming  to  claim  her  —  but  she  had  never  pic- 
tured anything  like  this.  A  proscribed  rebel, 
149 


My  Lady  Clan  car ty 

who  was  forced  to  see  her  secretly,  and  the 
man  himself —  ah,  that  was  it !  Here  was  a 
powerful  personality  that  she  had  never  im- 
agined ;  there  was  something  in  his  eyes,  his 
voice  that  drew  her  to  him  with  so  strange  a 
fascination  that  it  frightened  her.  She  knew 
just  how  he  would  look,  just  the  flash  in  his 
gray  eyes,  the  deep  tones  of  his  voice,  before 
she  saw  him  enter.  She  struggled  with  herself 
when  she  heard  his  tread  in  the  hall  and  knew 
it  —  and  she  was  listening  with  strained  ears, 
when  the  door  was  opened  for  him.  But 
Lady  Betty  was  not  one  to  show  the  white 
feather  ;  she  drew  her  breath  hard  and  straight- 
ened herself,  and  then  she  opened  that  fan  of 
hers  —  a  beautiful  affair  from  one  of  the  India 
houses  in  London  —  and  she  swayed  it  to  and 
fro  shading  her  face. 

Lord  Clancarty  came  into  the  room  with  a 
springing  step,  his  face  flushed  and  his  eyes 
shining;  he  wore,  indeed,  the  air  of  a  conquer- 
ing hero.  But,  almost  at  the  threshold,  he 
halted  and  stood  gazing  at  Betty  in  amaze- 
ment. She  was  still  standing  before  the  fire, 
slowly  wielding  the  fan,  her  face  averted,  pale, 
cold,  her  chin  up.  Nothing  could  have  been 
more  frozen  than  her  attitude ;  it  chilled  even 
his  ardor,  and  he  stood,  with  his  hat  in  his 
150 


My  Lord  C lane  arty 

hand,  and  for  a  few  moments  there  was  silence. 
Then  Lady  Betty  broke  it. 

"  I  received  your  note,  my  lord,"  she  said, 
in  an  icy  tone. 

"  The  devil  you  did,  madam,"  he  said,  "  I 
should  think  that  I  had  sent  you  a  cartel  — 
from  your  manner  of  receiving  me  !  Faith, 
my  lady,  you  seem  marvellous  glad  to  see 
your  husband." 

A  shadow  of  a  smile  flickered  in  Betty's  eyes. 

"  A  welcome  kept  too  long  grows  cold,  sir," 
she  replied. 

He  took  a  step  toward  her,  tossing  his  hat 
upon  the  table,  and  something  in  his  face  made 
her  back  closer  to  the  fire;  he  saw  it  and 
stopped,  smiling. 

"You  do  not  believe  in  me,"  he  said  re- 
proachfully; "  I  would  have  wooed  you  and 
won  you,  dear,  but  for  the  cruelty  of  fate.  I 
am  your  husband,"  he  added  softly  ;  "  does  not 
that  plead  a  little  ?  " 

"  A  childish  contract,  a  mere  formal  mock- 
ery," replied  Lady  Betty,  cool  as  ice,  looking 
at  him  across  the  candles,  "  I  should  not  dream 
of  being  bound  by  it  —  no  generous  man  would 
base  any  claim  upon  it,  sir ; "  she  told  this  false- 
hood glibly,  though  her  very  soul  shook  under 
his  glance. 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

The  blood  rushed  up  to  his  forehead. 

"  Have  I  based  any  claim  upon  it,  madam  ?  " 
he  asked  proudly. 

This  blow  went  home  ;  her  ladyship  turned 
crimson  and  bit  her  lips  in  silence. 

"  Nay,  you  do  p*t  know  me,"  he  said,  and 
his  rich  Irish  voice  deepened  and  softened 
with  restrained  emotion ;  "  I  would  scorn  to 
base  any  claim  upon  a  tie  not  freely  niade  — 
for  you  were  a  child  —  but  I  thought,*'1;,  he 
paused,  searching  her  face  keenly,  "  I  thought 
your  husband  might  win  your  heart,  my  lady." 

She  gave  him  a  quick  look,  and  then  her 
eyes  avoided  his  and  she  struggled  hard  for 
self-mastery.  If  he  had  known  it  then  —  one 
word  more,  one  step  farther  —  but  he  waited 
for  her  reply,  and  the  wayward  mood  came 
back  upon  her. 

"  Fourteen  years,  my  lord,"  she  said,  shrug- 
ging her  shoulders,  "  and  then,  you  plead  your 
title  to  my  —  my  affections  !  " 

"  Fourteen  years,"  he  repeated  slowly,  "  four- 
teen years  less  of  paradise,  Betty,  is  not  that 
enough  punishment  for  me  ?  " 

She  averted  her  face  and  did  not  reply. 
He  came  a  step  nearer  and  she  felt  his  hand 
closing  over  hers. 

"  Would  you  have  come  but  for  the  Peace 
152 


My  Lord  Clancarty 

of  Ryswick  ? "  she  asked,  looking  up  into 
his  eyes. 

He  smiled.  "If  we  had  won  before,"  he 
replied,  "if we  had  only  won  —  I  would  have 
come,  a  victor,  to  claim  you.  Betty,  I  did  not 
know  you,  I  had  never  pictured  you  as  you 
are !  I  went  to  Althorpe  like  a  thief  in  dis- 
guise, to  see  you,  and  from  that  moment  in  the 
greenwood,  I  loved  you  —  I  love  you  madly 
now  !  "  he  whispered,  and  she  felt  his  breath 
warm  on  her  cheek. 

She  did  not  dare  to  look  at  him  now. 

"  I  love  you,"  he  said  softly,  "and  —  does 
my  wife  care  nothing  for  me? " 

Before  she  realized  it  he  had  his  arm  around 
her,  his  lips  almost  touched  hers.  Then  she 
broke  away  from  him,  her  eyes  flashing,  her 
face  on  fire. 

"  You  go  too  far,  sir,"  she  cried  angrily, 
"  you  say  you  base  no  claim  upon  our  rela- 
tion, and  then  —  and  then  —  "  she  stopped, 
her  breast  heaving,  tears  in  her  eyes. 

He  smiled.  "  And  then  ?  I  would  have 
kissed  you,"  he  said,  "  by  Saint  Patrick,  I 
would  give  a  kingdom  —  if  it  were  mine  —  to 
kiss  you,  but  I  will  not  force  you  to  it,  Lady 
Clancarty  ! " 

"  You  dare  not !  "  she  flashed  at  him  angrily. 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

His  eyes  blazed.  "I  dare  not?"  he  re- 
peated, "  forsooth,  madam,  that  is  an  ill  word 
to  use  to  Donough  Macarthy  ;  I  dare  —  any- 
thing !  But  I  want  no  woman  against  her 
will.  I  would  n't  give  that,  madam,"  he  snapped 
his  fingers,  "  not  that  —  for  you  without  your 
heart !  " 

She  was  silent  for  a  moment,  but  the  expres- 
sion of  his  face,  his  masterful  manner,  stung 
her  pride  and  angered  her. 

"  You  are  a  proscribed  traitor,  my  lord," 
she  said  angrily,  "  how  can  you  ask  me  to 
share  your  life  ?  " 

His  look  withered  her. 

"  Madam,"  he  said,  "  I  ask  for  your  love. 
No  loving  woman  ever  thought  of  valuing  her 
husband  by  his  misfortunes.  I  am  a  beggar 
and  an  exile,  my  lady,  and  I  have  done  wrong 
to  sue  for  your  heart.  I  see  that  —  like  your 
father  —  you  value  men  by  their  positions  in 
the  world ! " 

Her  face  was  crimson.  "  You  insult  me, 
my  lord  !  "  she  cried  passionately. 

"  Did  you  not  insult  me  ?  "  he  asked  bit- 
terly; "  do  you  not  infer  that  I  only  ask  you 
because  I  am  broken  in  fortune  and  name  — 
a  bankrupt  ?  But  look  you,  my  lady,  I  cringe 
at  no  rich  man's  door  for  his  daughter !  "  he 


My  Lord  C lane  arty 

paused,  and  his  red-hot  anger  suddenly  turned 
to  ashes ;  his  eyes  dwelt  on  her  with  an  affec- 
tion that  moved  her  deeply  ;  "  I  love  you," 
he  said,  "  I  would  have  sued  for  your  heart  on 
my  knees — but,  madam,  I  will  take  scorn 
from  no  one  —  not  even  from  you.  In  exile, 
in  illness,  in  suffering,  I  have  often  thought  of 
you  —  your  face  shone  like  a  star  upon  me, 
your  pictured  face,  Betty,  and  when  I  saw  you, 
ah,"  he  paused,  looking  into  the  fire,  "  I  love 
you  still  —  but  you  are  Lord  Sunderland's 
daughter.  He  has  scorned  the  ruined  Irishman, 
and  you  —  you  scorn  me  too,  it  seems.  Fare- 
well, my  lady,  you  are  my  wife  —  but  hence- 
forth I  seek  you  no  more.  If  you  love  me, 
'twill  be  for  you  to  tell  the  exile,  the  proscribed 
traitor,  so." 

Betty  threw  out  her  hands  wildly. 

"  You  wrong  me,  sir,"  she  protested  faintly  ; 
<c  I  did  not  mean  to  reproach  you  with  poverty  ; 
I  —  I  spoke  in  anger." 

But  he  stood  like  a  statue. 

u  You  do  not  love  me,"  he  said,  his  deep 
voice  quivering,  "  and  mark  you,  Lady  Clan- 
carty,  I  will  have  nothing  but  your  love  —  your 
love ;  I  shall  take  no  less  !  I  love  you,  you 
are  my  very  own,  my  wife,"  his  tone  was 
masterful,  "but  I,  who  love  you,  I  will  not 


My  Lady  Clancarty 

sue  for  your  heart.  I  am  too  poor,  madam,  I 
will  not  ask  you  to  share  an  exile's  lot,  you  are 
too  great  a  lady,"  he  took  his  hat  from  the 
table  and  bowed  profoundly. 

He  longed  to  catch  her  in  his  arms  and  kiss 
her,  but  he  was  too  proud  ;  he  bowed  and  she 
courtesied  low,  and  in  the  dim  light  of  the 
candles  he  could  not  see  the  pallor  of  her  face, 
he  could  not  hear  her  heart  beat.  Pride  met 
pride. 

"  I  bid  you  farewell,  my  lady,"  he  said,  and 
bowed  himself  out  of  the  room. 

And  Betty  fell  upon  her  knees  beside  the 
table  and  laid  her  proud  head  down  upon  it 
and  wept  as  though  her  heart  would  break. 

"  Oh,"  she  sobbed  to  herself,  "  I  am  a  beast, 
a  heartless  little  beast,"  and  then  she  wept 
again,  this  being  the  manner  of  women. 

And  she  did  not  see  the  door  of  Lady 
Sunderland's  room  open  noiselessly,  upon  a 
tiny  crack,  stay  so  a  moment,  and  then  close 
again  as  silently.  She  neither  saw  nor  heard 
it  in  the  passion  of  her  grief. 


156 


CHAPTER    XVII 

AT    THE    TOY-SHOP 

THE  star  of  Lady  Clancarty's  fortune 
for  that  week  at  Newmarket  was  an 
evil  star.  For  it  was  the  very  day 
after  that  fateful  interview  with  her  husband,  a 
day  that  dawned  after  a  night  of  repentance 
and  good  resolutions,  that  another  straw  turned 
the  tide  against  reconciliation.  Lady  Sunder- 
land's  party  had  spent  the  forenoon  at  the 
theatre,  and  on  their  way  to  the  race-course 
they  stopped  at  Master  Drake's  toy-shop  on 
the  promenade ;  a  shop  famous  not  only  for 
the  toys  and  trinkets  of  a  kind  that  amused  the 
women  of  fashion,  but  for  the  tea  that  he  served 
in  a  little  room  in  the  rear,  which  was  divided 
into  stalls  like  those  in  coffee-rooms.  Here 
both  beaux  and  belles  congregated  to  sip  tea, 
and  gossip,  and  raffle  for  some  choice  toy  from 
India. 

The  shop,  recently   replenished   by  its  wily 
proprietor,  was  a  glittering  mass  of  novelties 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

and  almost  vied  with  the  famous  India  houses 
of  London  in  its  collection  of  Oriental  articles. 
Here  were  hideous  dragons  of  porcelain,  snuff- 
boxes with  jewelled  lids,  and  canes  of  the  latest 
fashion,  jars  of  snuff  and  pulvillo,  and  bottles 
of  rare  perfumes,  gilded  flasks  of  cut  glass, 
boxes  of  patches  ready  cut  for  the  cheeks  and 
brows  of  the  beauties,  ivory  combs  and  fans  of 
wonderful  and  beautiful  design,  delicate  tea-sets 
and  many  bits  of  Dutch  china,  first  accepted 
because  of  the  example  of  Queen  Mary,  gloves 
and  laces  and  even  India  shawls.  Here,  too, 
were  toys,  jewelry,  cogged  dice,  masks,  dom- 
inoes and  vizors,  and  here,  as  in  London,  the 
discreet  toy-men  handed  billets-doux  back  and 
forth  and  made  appointments  between  the 
beaux  and  belles ;  and  here  many  a  meeting 
took  place,  and  many  a  momentous  question 
was  settled  for  all  time,  either  in  the  toy-shop 
itself  or  in  the  stalls  behind  it,  where  the  world 
of  fashion  reigned. 

My  Lady  Sunderland  and  my  Lady  Dacres 
were  no  sooner  there  than  they  were  plunged  in 
the  excitement  of  a  raffle  for  a  hideous  china 
dragon,  and  almost  came  to  blows  for  the  posses- 
sion of  the  treasure.  But  Lady  Betty,  quite 
indifferent,  stood  apart  talking  to  a  group  of 
gay  young  people  near  the  entrance.  My 

158 


At  the  Toy-Shop 

Lord  of  Devonshire  was  there,  and  the  Marquis 
of  Hartington,  and  in  their  train,  young  Mackie, 
upon  whom  the  Countess  of  Clancarty  smiled ; 
and  there,  too,  was  Lord  Savile,  who  had  been 
at  her  elbow  all  the  morning  and  would  have 
declared  his  passion  for  her  had  he  dared. 
And  she  was  in  a  reckless  mood ;  her  eyes 
sparkled,  her  cheeks  glowed,  and  she  laughed 
and  jested,  though  her  heart  ached. 

The  king  was  well  enough  to  be  present  at 
the  race  in  the  afternoon  and  all  the  world  was 
agog  to  see  him.  The  throng  at  the  toy-shop 
grew  greater  as  the  people  stopped  on  their 
way  from  the  theatre  to  the  track,  and  the 
group  at  the  door  grew  larger  with  Lady  Betty 
in  the  centre  of  it,  sparkling  and  flushing  and 
laughing,  the  picture  of  a  beautiful  coquette. 

"  All  the  great  men  go  up  to  Parliament 
next  Wednesday,  Lady  Clancarty,"  said  Mr. 
Benham,  "  and  we  shall  see  your  brother  shine 
as  the  bright  particular  star  of  the  Whig  firma- 
ment." 

"  A  star — a  constellation  rather;  the  Little 
Bear  of  the  party,"  laughed  Lady  Betty  ro- 
guishly ;  "  what  will  you  do  this  season,  my 
Lord  of  Devonshire  ?  " 

The  great  man  smiled  benevolently  upon  the 
beauty. 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

"  Whatever  your  heart  desires,  madam,"  he 
replied  gallantly. 

Betty  flashed  a  quick  look  at  him. 

"  Will  you  indeed,  my  lord  ?  "  she  asked 
archly  ;  "  what  if  I  should  ask  a  great  boon  — 
even  half  thy  kingdom  ?  " 

Devonshire  looked  at  the  beautiful,  flushed 
face  and  marvelled. 

"  Even  that,  dear  Lady  Betty,"  he  replied 
courteously,  "  even  that." 

"  I  have  your  word,  my  lord,"  she  said,  and 
laughed  softly. 

"  And  mine,"  murmured  Savile,  in  her  ear, 
"  you  have  not  asked  —  but  it  is  the  whole  of 
my  kingdom." 

"  Ah,"  she  said,  and  gave  him  a  roguish 
glance,  "  I  do  remember  —  but  not  your  entire 
trust  in  my  decision  !  " 

He  blushed  crimson.  "  I  upheld  my  honor 
then,"  he  murmured,  looking  into  her  eyes ; 
"  my  heart  is  yours  —  to  break  at  will !  " 

Her  expression  changed,  changed  so  sharply 
that  he  looked  around,  following  the  direction 
of  her  glance,  and  saw  the  face  of  the  man  he 
hated  —  the  Irish  Jacobite.  Lord  Clancarty 
stood  just  within  the  door,  his  eyes  holding 
Betty's  against  her  will.  Savile  heard  her 
quick  gasp,  saw  her  hands  flutter,  and  he  thrust 

1 60 


At  the  Toy-Shop 

himself  between  with  a  black  look  at  Clancarty. 
But  Lady  Betty,  trying  to  collect  herself,  met 
young  Mackie's  eyes  and  saw  that  he  knew. 
The  blood  rushed  to  her  temples  but  she 
laughed. 

"  My  lord,"  she  said  to  Devonshire,  "  does 
your  horse  run  to-day  ?  or  my  Lord  Savile's 
gray  mare  ? " 

Devonshire  smiled.  "  Both,  my  lady,"  he 
said,  "  and  Savile  will  be  a  bankrupt  before 
night  —  in  all  but  love,  I  suspect." 

"A  poor  substitute  for  a  full  purse,  my 
lord,"  she  said  recklessly,  without  taking 
thought  of  her  words  until  she  felt  rather  than 
saw  Clancarty 's  grave  look  at  her.  "  I  mean," 
she  stammered,  "  in  my  Lord  Savile's  case  —  " 
and  then  she  stopped,  covered  with  confusion. 

Never  had  Lady  Betty  made  so  many  mis- 
takes, but  young  Mackie  came  valiantly  to  her 
aid. 

"  Have  you  heard  the  rumor  that  the  King 
of  Spain  is  dying  ?  "  he  asked  innocently. 

"  He  has  been  dying  for  a  long  time,"  re- 
marked Mr.  Benham  laughing,  "  and  the  King 
of  France  and  the  emperor  are  dying  of 
anxiety." 

"  Precisely,  and  but  for  our  king  there  would 
be  a  war  for  the  succession  within  a  week," 
"  161 


My  Lady  C  lane  arty 

said  Devonshire  thoughtfully  ;  "  as  it  is,  the 
peace  of  Europe  hangs  by  a  thread  —  the  nar- 
row thread  of  a  sickly  man's  life." 

"Yes,"  put  in  Betty,  herself  again,  "and 
Parliament  is  for  cutting  down  the  military 
establishment." 

Devonshire  smiled.  "The  people  do  not 
love  a  standing  army,  Lady  Clancarty,"  he 
replied. 

"  No,"  she  responded  quickly,  "  they  would 
perhaps  prefer  a  French  fleet  in  the  Thames." 

"  Some  of  'em  would,"  said  Savile  sullenly. 

"  No,  sir,  you  are  wrong,"  declared  Devon* 
shire,  "  no  Englishman  would  —  not  even  a 
Jacobite  —  when  it  came  to  that.  You  re- 
member how  the  southern  counties  rose  to 
repulse  Tourville's  squadron  in  '90  ? " 

"  You  are  in  the  right,  my  lord ;  no  true 
Briton  has  ever  thought  of  seeing  his  country 
under  the  heel  of  Louis,"  said  Clancarty,  sud- 
denly taking  part  in  the  conversation. 

"  Some  traitors  —  who  are  not  Englishmen 
—  would,  Mr.  Trevor,"  sneered  Savile,  with 
an  emphasis  on  the  name. 

The  disguised  earl  shot  a  fierce  glance  at  him 
and  smiled  dangerously. 

"  Little  dogs  snarl  when  they  dare  not  bite, 
my  lord,"  he  said  suavely. 
162 


At  the  Toy-Shop 

"  Since  the  famous  peace,  sir,  all  the  rene- 
gades and  cutpurses  talk  loud,"  replied  Savile, 
in  an  insolent  undertone. 

"  Cowards  always  insult  men  in  the  presence 
of  women,"  retorted  Clancarty  smiling. 

At  this  moment  they  were  interrupted  by  a 
movement  of  the  throng,  some  passing  out, 
and  my  Lady  Sunderland,  having  won  her 
Chinese  dragon  from  all  competitors,  bore 
down  upon  them  flushed  with  triumph,  and 
the  chairs  were  called. 

Betty  stood  a  moment  at  the  threshold. 
Clancarty  was  beside  her,  his  face  quite  grave. 
She  looked  up;  the  impulse  was  in  her  heart 
to  speak  and  their  eyes  met  but  his  were  cold. 

"You  choose  wisely,  my  lady,"  he  said,  in  a 
bitter  undertone,  "a  full  purse  is  better  than  a 
beggarly  love,  it  seems." 

She  flushed  crimson. 

Savile  thrust  himself  forward  and  held  out 
his  hand. 

"  Permit  me  to  put  you  in  your  chair,  my 
lady,"  he  said,  grace  and  courtesy  personified  ; 
handsome,  well  dressed,  courtly,  the  very 
picture  of  a  deferential  lover. 

"  A  thousand  thanks,  my  lord,"  she  said 
sweetly,  putting  her  hand  in  his. 

He  put  her  in  her  chair  and  the  procession 
163 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

started,  Lady  Sunderland  screaming  to  the 
toy-man  about  the  careful  packing  of  her 
dragon,  and  Betty  looked  out  smiling,  more 
charming  than  ever. 

A  moment  afterwards,  Clancarty  and  Savile 
faced  each  other. 

"  This  very  evening  would  be  propitious, 
my  lord,"  said  the  Irishman  coolly,  "  the  same 
spot,  I  believe,  and  the  same  seconds  ?  " 

"  At  your  service,  sir,"  said  Savile  fiercely, 
"and  damn  you,  I  mean  to  kill  you  ! " 

"  I  'm  beholden  to  you,  my  lord,"  replied 
the  earl,  and  laughed  as  he  walked  away. 

"Ah,  Betty,"  he  said  to  himself,  as  he 
passed  on  toward  the  Lion's  Head,  "is  a 
coquette  worth  dying  for  ? "  and  then,  after  a 
moment,  he  hummed  two  lines  of  the  old 
song :  — 

*'  A  second  life,  a  soul  anew, 
My  dark  Rosalecn  !  " 


164 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

THE     DUEL 

«  TT^V  ENIS,"  said  Lord  Clancarty  laugh- 
1  ing,  "  in  five  minutes  they  will  be 

-*—^    here  and  in  ten  I  may  be  dead." 

"  Divil  a  bit,  my  lord,"  said  Denis  hope- 
fully, "  unless  you  are  kilt  intirely." 

But  there  was  a  strange  look  in  the  faithful 
Irishman's  eyes,  a  look  of  mute  suffering. 
Lord  Clancarty  slipped  a  ring  off  his  finger 
and  gave  it  to  him. 

"  Denis,"  he  said,  in  an  even  voice,  quiet 
and  cheerful, "  if  I  fall,  take  that  to  Lady  Clan- 
carty and  tell  her  that  she  is  free." 

"  Yes,  my  lord,"  replied  Denis,  in  a  dull 
tone,  not  looking  up. 

"  Even  if  I  do  not  fall,  you  will  take  it  to 
her  with  that  message,"  continued  the  earl, 
looking  across  the  meadow  at  the  approaching 
figures  of  his  opponent  and  their  seconds  and, 
perhaps,  his  thoughts  dwelt  on  that  morning 
when  Lady  Betty  put  the  swords  aside.  "  We 
165 


My  Lady  C  lane  arty 

will  leave  here  to-morrow,  Denis,  or  — "  he 
shrugged  his  shoulders,  "  there  is  little  money 
left." 

"  Faix,  we  '11  have  to  see  th'  Jews  again,  me 
lord,"  said  the  man  dolefully  ;  "  they  're  afther 
bein'  me  most  familiar  friends,  the  jewels  !  " 

Clancarty  laughed. 

A  moment  later  he  was  bowing  with  cere- 
monious courtesy  to  Lord  Savile  and  Mr. 
Benham.  Young  Mackie  came  up,  too,  bring- 
ing a  fourth  person. 

"  I  brought  a  surgeon,  gentlemen,"  he  said 
half  apologetically  ;  "  Dr.  Radcliffe,  my  Lord 
Savile  and  —  Mr.  Trevor." 

Dr.  Radcliffe,  a  large  man  wearing  a  rich  but 
old-fashioned  dress  and  a  huge  periwig,  bowed 
gravely.  He  had  a  large  practice  and  was 
famous  for  a  freedom  of  speech  that  had  once 
gone  so  far  as  to  offend  King  William. 

"  I  have  to  thank  you,  gentlemen,  for  fur- 
nishing me  with  patients,"  he  remarked  dryly ; 
"  let  me  beg  you  not  to  be  too  thorough." 

"  'T  is  to  be  to  the  finish,  doctor,"  said 
Clancarty  coolly,  that  dangerous  smile  on  his 
lips. 

"  A   devilish   poor   plan,"  said  the    doctor, 
with  a  shrug  ;  "  it  will  take  more  than  my  skill 
to  resuscitate  a  corpse." 
166 


The  Duel 

"  We  shall  not  expect  a  miracle  —  even  from 
the  great  Dr.  Radcliffe,"  replied  Clancarty. 

Mr.  Benham  and  young  Mackie  were 
measuring  the  ground.  Denis,  in  the  mean- 
time, turned  his  face  away  and  looked  toward 
the  setting  sun ;  it  may  be  that  he  was  wish- 
ing for  the  shoes  he  wore  at  Boyne,  but  it  is 
not  recorded.  The  clouds  overhead  were  red 
and  the  level  meadows  bathed  in  the  slanting 
rays  of  light ;  long  shadows  fell  across  the 
scene  ;  a  bird  sang  in  the  grove  of  limes, 

The  two  men  stepped  into  the  open,  stripped 
of  coats  and  waistcoats,  their  white  shirts  show- 
ing vividly  against  the  green  background. 
Lord  Savile  was  flushed,  but  Clancarty's  face 
was  singularly  serene.  The  signal  was  given  ; 
their  weapons  flashed,  and  there  was  the  sudden 
ring  of  steel  on  steel. 

Ah,  't  was  a  wonderful  duel ;  afterwards, 
men  spoke  of  it  as  a  kind  of  triumph  in  the 
art  of  duelling,  and  Dr.  Radcliffe  described  it 
to  the  Princess  Anne  and  the  Duke  of  Marl- 
borough.  Clancarty  was  an  Irishman  and 
therefore  a  born  fighter,  though  the  English- 
men of  that  day  thought  all  Irishmen  cowards 
because  the  poor,  barefoot  peasants  ran  before 
the  trained  battalions  of  the  English  and 
Dutch.  Moreover,  the  young  earl  had  served 
167 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

a  long  apprenticeship  on  the  Continent ;  and 
in  France  duelling  was  the  breath  of  men's 
nostrils.  Clancarty  fought  that  day  recklessly 
and  beautifully  ;  he  was  lithe  and  graceful  as  a 
panther,  with  a  wrist  like  steel  and  an  eye  that 
never  faltered,  and  he  had  met  no  mean  antag- 
onist ;  my  Lord  Savile  was  counted  one  of  the 
best  swordsmen  in  the  Guards,  and  hating  his 
opponent  he  fought  with  fury. 

Steel  ground  on  steel  and  the  sparks  flew, 
thrust  and  parry,  point  and  blade,  stroke  on 
stroke.  The  others  watched  in  breathless  ad- 
miration ;  they  even  forgot  their  individual  in- 
terest in  the  struggle  and  stood  gaping  like 
schoolboys.  Both  men  were  tired,  yet  both 
played  on,  evenly  matched,  relentless  and 
reckless.  There  was  a  sudden  thrust  over 
Savile's  guard  and  then,  in  an  instant,  Lord 
Clancarty's  sword  snapped  at  the  hilt,  just  as 
Savile's  crossed  it  and  passed  into  his  breast. 
It  was  over  in  a  moment,  and  he  lay  full  length 
on  the  turf  and  the  blood  was  flowing  from  a 
cut  in  his  antagonist's  neck. 

"  Oh,  my  lord,  my  own  dear  lord  !  "  wailed 
Denis,  falling  on  his  knees,  and  even  Lord 
Savile's  face  was  white  as  chalk. 

•  •••••••• 

In  the  dimly  lighted  hall  of  the   inn  that 
168 


The  Duel 

night,  Denis,  with  a  lined,  drawn  face,  white  as 
a  dead  man's,  laid  something  in  Lady  Betty's 
hand. 

"  Me  lord's  greetings  to  me  lady,"  he  said 
in  a  strained  voice ;  "  I  was  to  give  ye  that 
an'  say,  ( Ye  are  quite  free '  !  " 

Lady  Betty  stared  at  him  wildly.  She  read 
a  message  of  calamity  in  his  face. 

"  What  is  it  ?  What  has  happened  ? "  she 
cried. 

But  the  Irishman  only  gave  her  one  look  of 
deep  reproach  and  plunged  down  the  stairs  into 
the  hubbub  of  the  court. 

Clancarty's  ring  and  "  you  are  free  "  ! 

She  swayed  so  that  Alice  Lynn,  who  came 
running  toward  her,  caught  her  in  her  arms  and 
almost  carried  her  to  her  room. 


169 


CHAPTER   XIX 

MY    LORD    SAVILE    REAPS    HIS    REWARD 

LADY  SUNDERLAND  was,  as  usual, 
playing    cards    with    her   crony.     The 
game    was    gleek,   and    Lady    Dacres 
was  determined  to  be  avenged  for  the  loss  of 
the     Chinese     dragon  —  grinning     hideously 
from   the  mantel  —  and  she  was   betting  and 
cheating  desperately.     Dr.    Radcliffe   made   a 
third,  and  Lord  Spencer  looked  on  —  politely 
bored. 

The  tapers  burned  brightly  and  Lady  Sun- 
derland  simpered  and  nodded  her  head  at  Dr. 
Radcliffe,  though  she  would  not  have  tolerated 
his  society  if  he  had  not  been  physician  to  the 
Princess  Anne  and  she  hoped  to  extract  some 
royal  gossip  from  him. 

The  host  of  the  Lion's  Head  came  in  him- 
self, with  a  servant  bearing  a  large  loving-cup 
of  silver.  The  good  man  was  flushed  and 
obsequious  and  plainly  out  of  sorts,  keeping  a 
weather  eye  on  Lord  Spencer. 

170 


My  Lord  Savile  reaps  his  Reward 

"Will  your  ladyship  be  pleased  to  try  this 
hypocras  ?  "  he  said,  bowing  low  ;  "  't  is  of  my 
own  brewing  and  I  '11  warrant  it  the  finest  in 
the  county--!  had  the  rule  from  the  keeper 
of  Man's,"  and  he  rubbed  his  fat  hands  together 
unctuously. 

Lady  Dacres  tasted  first  and  rolled  her  eyes 
up. 

"Ambrosia!"  she  said,  "  oh,  la  —  I  mean 
nectar,  don't  I,  Lord  Spencer?"  and  she 
tittered  like  a  girl  of  sixteen. 

Dr.  Radcliffe  drank  some  deliberately. 

"  Better  than  the  brandy  you  sent  us  this 
afternoon,"  he  remarked,  with  a  twinkle  in 
his  eye. 

The  man  grew  crimson.  "  'T  is  for  a  better 
purpose,"  he  stammered. 

The  great  physician  raised  his  eyebrows. 

"  Chut !  that 's  a  strange  notion,"  he  said 
bluntly;  "it  is  not  a  good  purpose,  then,  to 
save  life  ?  " 

The  innkeeper  worked  his  hands  nervously. 

:t  I  've  heard  strange  things  since,  your 
worship,"  he  faltered,  his  eye  on  the  young 
nobleman. 

'You  harbor  strange  guests,"  remarked 
Spencer  sternly,  his  cold  glance  transfixing 
the  little  man. 

171 


My  Lady  Clancarty 

"  I  can't  always  know  their  antecedents,  my 
lord,"  said  the  host,  redder  than  ever,  and  in 
an  agony  of  uneasiness. 

"  What 's  the  matter  ?  "  asked  Lady  Sunder- 
land,  "  you  look  as  if  you  'd  seen  a  ghost. 
What  in  the  wide  world  are  you  hatching  now, 
Spencer  ? " 

"  Oh,  nothing  of  importance,"  he  replied 
coolly ;  "  the  Lion's  Head  is  turning  Jacobite, 
that 's  all." 

"  Mercy  on  us !  "  ejaculated  Lady  Sunder- 
land,  with  pious  horror,  "I  thought  'twas  a 
noted  Whig  house  —  and  the  king  still  in  New- 
market, too." 

"  Indeed,  madam  —  your  ladyship,  I  do  pro- 
test," put  in  the  landlord. 

"  Tut,  tut ! "  said  Dr.  RadclifFe,  waving  him 
aside,  "  we  '11  excuse  you.  A  dead  Jacobite 's 
no  great  matter." 

"  A  dead  Jacobite  ?  "  screamed  Lady  Dacres 
shrilly;  "you  make  me  faint!  Here  man,  an- 
other glass  of  what-d'-ye-call-it  ?  —  hypocrite  ?  " 
and  she  drank  it  with  a  sigh,  fanning  herself. 

Spencer  frowned,  rising  and  walking  to  the 
window,  and  apparently  looking  out  into  the 
black  night  beyond.  The  landlord,  taking  ad- 
vantage of  his  opportunity,  slid  out  of  the 
door  with  alacrity. 

172 


My  Lord  Savile  reaps  his  Reward 

"  There  has  been  a  duel,  madam,"  explained 
Radcliffe,  shuffling  the  cards,  "in  the  long 
meadow  —  and  the  provost-marshal  may  look 
into  it  later." 

"  Dear,  dear,"  simpered  Lady  Sunderland, 
looking  over  her  cards,  "  was  any  one  killed  ? 
I'll  raise  the  wager  to  nine  shillings  —  oh,  la 
—  the  doctor  has  a  mourneval ! "  she  added, 
aside  to  Lady  Dacres. 

"A  young  Irishman,  Trevor,  was  desper- 
ately wounded,"  replied  Radcliffe  ;  "  a  splendid 
swordsman,  but  his  blade  broke." 

"  What!  "  exclaimed  Lady  Sunderland,  "that 
charming  young  man  ? "  she  shook  her  head 
mournfully ;  "  his  legs  were  beautifully  sym- 
metrical." 

"  Did  he  lose  one  ?  "  tittered  Lady  Dacres, 
clutching  at  her  cards  with  greedy  fingers  ;  "  you 
said  nine  shillings  more  ?  " 

Lady  Sunderland  nodded ;  she  held  three 
kings  and  hoped  to  win.  "  The  doctor  has 
Tiddy  and  Towser  both,"  she  whispered  be- 
hind her  fan. 

At  the  moment,  Betty  came  into  the  room. 
Her  face  was  pale  but  she  showed  no  signs  of 
the  tempest. 

"  He  had  an  ugly  wound,  madam,"  Dr.  Rad- 
cliffe  said,  playing  a  card  leisurely  ;  "  his  chances 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

of  life  amount  to  that,"  the  physician  made  a 
significant  gesture. 

"  Dear  me,  Betty,  come  here  and  listen  to 
this  awful  tale,"  said  Lady  Sunderland ;  "  your 
friend,  Mr.  Trevor,  killed  —  oh,  by  the  way, 
who  did  it,  doctor  ? " 

Lord  Spencer  had  turned  from  the  window. 

"  Savile,"  he  answered  coldly,  "  and  he  did 
well.  It  seems  he  suspected  him  —  thought 
him  a  disguised  Jacobite  and  has  called  him  out 
twice  to  kill  him  —  this  time  he  has  probably 
done  it.  And  now  it  is  rumored  that  the 
fellow  is  one  of  those  excepted  in  the  late  act 
of  Parliament.  The  country  is  flooded  with 
these  rascals,  constantly  menacing  its  safety  and 
the  king's  life." 

"  How  romantic,"  sighed  Lady  Sunderland, 
throwing  her  cards ;  "  there,"  she  crowed, 
"three  kings — Meg,  I've  got  you!" 

Lady  Dacres  replied  by  tossing  her  cards  on 
the  table  with  a  scream  of  triumph. 

"  Oh,  confound  it !  "  cried  Lady  Sunderland 
furiously;  "  the  hussy  has  a  gleek  of  aces ! 
You're  an  old  cheat,  Meg!" 

Lady  Dacres  laughed  immoderately,  gather- 
ing in  the  coin  with  eager  ringers.  The  other 
old  gambler  eyed  her  with  fury,  her  headdress 
quivering.  Dr.  RadclifFe,  who  knew  it  was  the 


My  Lord  Savile  reaps  his  Reward 

fashion  to  fleece  the  men  at  table,  looked  on  in- 
differently, keeping  up  his  talk  with  Spencer. 

"  I  cannot  see  why  Savile  had  to  kill  him  for 
a  Jacobite,"  he  remarked,  deliberately  taking 
snuff  from  an  elaborate  box  with  the  arms  of 
the  Princess  of  Denmark  on  it ;  "  the  provost- 
marshal  can  see  to  them.  We  all  know  that 
the  Habeas  Corpus  Act  is  suspended  on  account 
of  the  plots  against  the  king's  life.  Savile's 
motive  must  have  been  more  human  than  that, 
my  lord." 

Spencer  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"He  was  doing  a  high  duty,  sir,"  he  replied 
pompously,  "  he  was  ridding  his  country  of  a 
traitor.  Savile  's  a  fine  fellow." 

"  He  's  a  murderer !  "  said  Betty  sharply. 

She  stood  with  her  hand  on  the  back  of  her 
mother's  chair  and  her  tall  figure  seemed  to 
tower.  The  doctor  gave  her  a  shrewd  glance. 

"You  love  heroics,  Elizabeth,"  her  brother 
replied  with  a  drawl,  but  his  face  turned  white 
—  a  danger  signal. 

Betty  did  not  look  at  him ;  she  fixed  her 
eyes  on  the  doctor. 

"  Will  he  die  ? "  she  asked,  and  her  voice 
was  perfectly  controlled. 

Radcliffe  was  thoughtful  and  did  not  answer 
for  a  moment. 

i7S 


My  Lady  C  lane  arty 

"There  is  one  chance  in  a  thousand,"  he 
said,  "  there  would  have  been  more,  but  this  po- 
litical stir  and  hubbub  has  compelled  them  to 
spirit  him  away,  and  a  journey  —  "  he  shrugged 
his  shoulders  ;  "  I  should  say  six  feet  of  earth, 
madam,  would  end  it." 

She  drew  her  breath  sharply ;  to  her  all  the 
candles  in  the  room  seemed  to  be  revolving  in 
a  death-dance. 

"  He  ought  to  die,"  said  Spencer  piously, 
"  a  Jacobite  and  a  renegade.  By  Saint  Thomas, 
we  're  well  rid  of  him  !  " 

"  La,  how  romantic  it  is  ! "  Lady  Sunder- 
land  said,  shuffling  her  cards  and  glaring  at 
her  simpering  rival. 

Betty  walked  past  them  and  out  into  the 
anteroom,  where  she  met  Lord  Savile  leaning 
on  Mr.  Benham's  arm.  His  neck  was  bound 
up  and  swathed  in  lace,  and  one  arm  was  in  a 
sling.  He  bowed  low  with  a  white  face  and 
languishing  eyes. 

"  Here 's  a  brave  fellow  half  killed  for  love 
of  you,  my  lady,"  said  Mr.  Benham,  with  gal- 
lantry. 

Betty  halted ;  tall  and  straight  as  an  arrow, 
her  eyes  sparkling.  No  one  anticipated  the 
lightning. 

Savile  smiled.  "  Dear  Lady  Clancarty,"  he 
176 


My  Lord  Savile  reaps  his  Reward 

said,  in  a  weak  voice,  "  I  am  your  humblest 
servant." 

"  You  are  a  murderer,  sir,"  she  replied,  in  a 
terrible  tone;  "let  me  never  see  your  face 
again." 

And  she  swept  on  and  left  them  standing 
there  in  blank  amazement. 

In  her  own  room  she  fell  on  Alice's  neck  in 
a  passion  of  tears. 

"  O  Alice,  Alice  !  "  she  cried,  "  I  have  driven 
him  to  his  death." 

And  Alice  —  who  had  heard  all  that  even- 
ing, in  the  agony  of  her  ladyship's  first  grief 
and  terror  —  Alice  clasped  her  close,  forgetting 
the  great  distance  between  them  and  remember- 
ing only  her  devotion  to  this  beautiful  and 
wilful  creature. 

"  I  did  not  know  you  cared  so  much,"  she 
said,  "  I  never  thought  that  he  might  be  Lord 
Clancarty." 

"  Ah,  I  felt  it  from  the  first,  Alice,"  Lady 
Betty  said  ;  "  there  was  something  in  his  bear- 
ing toward  me  —  his  tone  —  I  knew  he  was 
my  husband,  I  felt  it ! " 

"  And  yet  —  and  yet  —  my  lady,  you  sent 
him  away ! "  the  girl  murmured,  in  a  tone  of 
wonder. 

12  I77 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

Betty's  head  dropped.  "  Yes,  he  has  gone  !  " 
she  said,  "gone  —  my  own  true  love  —  and 
desperately  wounded,  too  !  " 

"  Yes,  gone,"  said  Alice,  venturing  on  a 
tearful  remonstrance  ;  "  I  can't  understand  you, 
my  lady,  I  can't  indeed !  One  moment,  you 
are  all  tenderness  for  the  poor  gentleman,  the 
next,  you  are  driving  him  into  exile  with  your 
coldness." 

"  Exile  ?  Oh,  no,  no  !  "  cried  Lady  Betty 
passionately,  "  he  shall  not  go  without  me.  I 
love  him,  my  girl,  I  love  him  —  can't  you 
understand  ?  'T  was  that  which  made  me  feel 
so  —  feel  that  he  only  claimed  me,  did  not  woo 
me.  You  are  as  dull  as  any  man,  Alice,"  she 
walked  to  and  fro,  beating  her  hands  together, 
"my  love,  my  poor  love!"  she  sighed  and 
then  suddenly  her  mood  changed,  she  raised 
her  head  resolutely. 

"  My  hood  and  cloak,  Alice,"  she  said 
quickly,  "  and  my  vizard." 

"  Madam,  't  is  very  late,"  remonstrated  the 
girl. 

Betty  stamped  her  foot.  "  I  am  your  mis- 
tress," she  said,  "obey  me  —  you  forget  your 

i       »> 
place. 

"  Nay,  my  lady,"  said  Alice  sadly,  "  I  do  not 
forget  —  but  I  love  you  !  " 
178 


My  Lord  Savile  reaps  his  Reward 

Her  generous-hearted  mistress  repented  in 
a  moment. 

"  Forgive  me,"  she  said  gently,  "  I  know  it, 
Alice,  but  I  cannot  be  advised  —  I  must  find 
him."  She  stopped,  her  face  white  under  the 
hood  that  the  girl  was  adjusting:  "O  Alice, 
he  may  be  dying  !  " 


179 


CHAPTER   XX 

LADY  BETTY'S  SEARCH 

THOUGH  the  stars  were  out,  the 
night  was  black  as  pitch  and  the 
courtyard  of  the  inn  was  only  lighted 
by  the  broad  bands  of  red  that  flared  across  it 
from  the  gaping  doors  of  hall  and  kitchen, 
serving  to  make  the  surrounding  darkness 
more  palpable.  So  it  was  that  Lady  Betty  and 
Alice  —  cloaked  and  hooded  —  nearly  stumbled 
against  young  Mackie,  and  would  not  have 
known  him  but  for  his  exclamation  of  impa- 
tience. He  took  them  for  kitchen  wenches, 
and  when  Lady  Betty  cried  out  his  name,  he 
stopped  short  with  a  gasp  of  sheer  amazement. 

"  Oh,  Sir  Edward,  't  was  you  —  of  all  men 
—  I  wanted  to  see  !  "  she  cried. 

Poor  Mackie,  if  he  could  have  taken  her  at 
her  word !  But,  alas,  her  tone  belied  her 
words  and  his  heart  sank  drearily. 

"  You  here,  my  lady  !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  what 
has  happened  ?  I  am  at  your  service ;  I  pray 
you  —  " 

1 80 


But  she  cut  him  short. 

"  Where  is  he  ?  "  she  whispered. 

She  mentioned  no  name,  but  the  young  man 
understood. 

"  His  servant  removed  him  two  hours  ago, 
Lady  Clancarty,"  he  replied  quietly,  fc  whither, 
I  know  not.  The  man,  a  wild  Irish  clown, 
would  not  trust  me,  though,  'pon  my  honor,  I 
meant  to  serve  —  Mr.  Trevor,"  his  voice  fal- 
tered so  at  the  name  that  she  was  again  assured 
that  he  had  divined  their  secret  and  a  weight 
slipped  from  her  heart. 

"  Was  he  dying  ?  "  she  asked  very  low,  but 
the  tremor  in  her  voice  thrilled  her  listener. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  he  stammered,  "  I  pray 
not,  my  lady,  for  he  is  a  brave  man." 

She  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said  simply,  "  he  is  my 
husband." 

Young  Mackie  bent  his  head  and  kissed  her 
fingers  reverently. 

"  He  also  trusted  me,  madam,"  he  said,  and 
she  did  not  see  the  pain  in  the  boy's  eyes  ;  "  I 
shall  endeavor  to  deserve  it." 

But  Betty  was  not  thinking  of  him. 

"  I  must  find  him,"  she  said  shivering,  "  I 
must  find  him  !  "  and  a  sob  choked  her  voice. 

Young  Mackie  was  silent.  From  the  kitchen 
181 


My  Lady  Clancarty 

came  the  hubbub  of  voices,  the  clatter  of  dishes ; 
while,  looking  over  Betty's  shoulder,  he  saw 
Spencer  and  Savile  cross  the  main  hall,  arm  in 
arm,  their  heads  together.  Sir  Edward  knew 
well  enough  that  Savile  had  tried  to  kill  Clan- 
carty and  he  set  his  teeth,  for  he  saw  her  cloaked 
figure  sway  and  quiver  in  the  passion  of  emo- 
tion that  shook  her.  He  was  a  generous  fellow 
and  he  forgot  himself. 

"  I  will  try  to  find  him,  my  lady,"  he  said 
in  a  low  tone,  glancing  cautiously  at  the  hall 
door,  "  he  can't  be  very  far  away,  he  could  not 
travel ;  that  man  has  hidden  him  somewhere 
because  of  the  stir  made  by  the  duel  —  I  think 
his  identity  was  very  near  discovery." 

"  I  know  it,"  she  said,  "  but  how  to  find 
him  —  oh,  Sir  Edward,  I  must  do  it!  He  — 
he  may  be  in  need  of  a  surgeon  —  of  care  —  of 
everything !  "  she  broke  off  wildly,  and  then, 
"  Come,  Alice,  we  must  go  on." 

But  he  detained  her.  "  Whither,  madam  ?  " 
he  asked  gravely,  "  not  in  a  vain  search  —  at 
night  —  for  —  for  him  ?  " 

She  drew  herself  up  proudly.  "  Do  you 
think  I  will  let  my  husband  die  thus?  —  and 
stir  no  finger  to  help  him  ?  "  she  asked  bitterly. 

"  Then  you  will  let  me  go  with  you,"  he 
said  quietly,  taking  his  place  beside  her. 

182 


Lady  Betty  s  Search 

She  hesitated  and  quickly  assented.  "  If  you 
will,"  she  replied,  "  since  it  is  late  and  we  are 
only  two  women  —  but  we  must  make  haste," 
and  she  ran  down  the  old  stone  steps  into  the 
garden,  taking  the  very  path  she  had  walked 
with  Clancarty.  Mackie  and  Alice  followed 
her  silently,  though  both  were  convinced  of 
the  fruitlessness  of  such  an  errand  at  such  an 
hour. 

But  the  night  had  worn  on  many  hours 
more  and  the  moon  had  risen  before  Betty 
acknowledged  that  her  quest  was  vain.  Mean- 
while, young  Mackie  had  patiently  searched  in 
every  tavern  and  inn  in  Newmarket;  he  had 
invaded  all  the  alleys  and  byways,  all  the  nooks 
and  corners,  and  inquired  of  grooms  and 
porters  and  stable-men  —  but  to  no  purpose. 
Denis  had  covered  his  retreat  with  more  skill 
than  Sir  Edward  had  looked  for.  If  the  truth 
be  told,  the  Irishman  was  no  new  hand  at  the 
business  and  he  understood  it  well,  having  fol- 
lowed Lord  Clancarty  in  his  adventurous  life, 
from  Dublin,  and  later  in  a  wild  career  on  the 
Continent  when  the  gay  young  nobleman  had 
kept  pace  with  his  fellow  exiles  of  high  birth 
and  slim  purses,  but  unlimited  daring.  It  was 
not  the  first  duel  nor  the  first  cause  for  flight, 
and  Denis  had  spirited  the  wounded  man  away 
183 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

and  left  no  sign.  Even  Betty,  determined  and 
vigilant  as  she  was,  was  forced  to  acknowledge 
herself  defeated,  and  she  walked  drearily  back 
to  the  Lion's  Head  with  an  aching  heart.  He 
believed  her  indifferent  to  him  —  would  he 
ever  send  her  a  message  or  a  token  again  ? 
Never  ;  she  was  sure  of  it,  and  she  bowed  her 
head  in  dejection —  Lady  Betty,  who  was  never 
crestfallen.  She  and  Alice  crept  in,  at  last,  by 
the  garden  way  and  fled  to  her  apartments  in 
no  little  trepidation,  but  they  fancied  themselves 
safe  when  they  found  that  Lady  Sunderland 
had  gone  to  bed,  to  get  her  beauty  sleep,  and 
the  woman,  Melissa,  slept  in  her  room  that 
night,  in  the  absence  of  the  countess'  own 
attendant. 

Lady  Betty  did  not  sleep  nor  did  she  open 
her  heart  to  the  faithful  girl  who  was  nearly  as 
grieved  as  she  was  to  see  her  trouble.  She 
knelt  for  hours  by  the  window  looking  out 
over  the  moonlit  garden  where  the  shadows 
were  black  between  the  hedgerows.  It  was  a 
night  of  agony  ;  to  know  that  he  might  be 
dying  —  dying  with  hard  thoughts  of  her  in- 
difference —  almost  within  reach  of  her  and  yet 
so  far.  She  was  his  wife,  she  thought  with 
sharp  pain,  and  yet  he  could  not  send  her 
word  —  and  she  did  not  deserve  it.  He  was 

184 


Lady  Betty  s  Search 

dying,  because  Savile  had  been  determined  to 
kill  him  :  he  had  divined  the  secret,  he  was 
resolved  to  remove  her  husband.  Betty  saw 
it  all ;  she  had  wrung  some  admissions  from 
Mackie,  the  rest  she  knew  by  intuition. 

She  had  a  high  spirit  —  all  her  life  she  had 
had  her  way  at  last,  in  spite  of  her  heartless, 
frivolous  mother  and  her  selfish,  brilliant 
father,  and  this  was  a  trial  hard  to  bear. 
Clancarty  was  the  first  man  who  had  not  done 
her  homage,  who  met  her  on  her  own  ground 
and  demanded  that  she  should  love  him. 
Perhaps  it  was  that  which  won  her ;  howbeit, 
her  eyes  were  dim  with  tears  as  she  looked  out 
of  the  window  and  looked,  indeed,  until  the 
sun  rose  on  another  day. 


CHAPTER   XXI 

THE    VALLEY    OF    THE    SHADOW 

IT  was  a  small  and  desolate  room,  with  bare 
rafters  overhead,  and  the  wind  rattling 
fiercely  at  the  old  casements,  while  Denis 
was  trying  to  keep  a  sickly  fire  of  green  wood 
alive  upon  the  hearth.  The  floor  was  of 
stone,  cold  and  bare,  save  for  a  few  rushes 
strewn  beside  the  truckle  bed,  and  there  was 
no  light  but  that  from  the  sputtering  logs  and 
one  poor  taper ;  there  were  only  two  chairs 
and  one  small  table  in  the  room  beside  the 
bed,  but  all  was  scrupulously  clean,  though 
barren  and  chilly  beyond  description. 

And  on  the  bed  lay  Lord  Clancarty,  his 
cheeks  flushed  with  fever,  his  hair  dishevelled, 
his  eyes  shining,  and  his  hands  ever  and  anon 
clutching  at  the  coverlet  fiercely  whenever 
any  chance  movement  gave  him  pain. 

If  the  aspect  of  the  place  was  poor,  it  was 
also  desolately  lonely  ;  no  sound  reached  their 
ears  but  the  rustling  of  the  wind  in  the  tree 

186 


'The  Valley  of  the  Shadow 

tops  without  and  the  creaking  of  the  old  build- 
ing itself.  It  was  an  old  farmhouse,  the 
dwelling  of  the  widow  of  a  Jacobite  —  for 
England  was  honey-combed  with  conspiracies 
and  counter-conspiracies  —  and  this  woman,  a 
rigid  believer  in  the  old  order  of  things,  had  the 
courage  to  take  the  wounded  nobleman  under 
her  roof;  she  could  give  him  shelter,  but  as 
for  comforts  she  had  none  to  give.  Here, 
too,  with  her  connivance,  Denis  smuggled 
a  young  surgeon,  one  of  the  faithful,  to  tend 
the  wound  that  the  famous  Radcliffe  had 
dressed  with  his  own  hands  on  the  field. 
The  young  practitioner  shared  the  doubts  of 
his  senior,  and  shook  his  head  gravely ;  the 
wounded  man  might  live,  but  he  was  quite  as 
likely  to  die.  So,  with  these  gloomy  pre- 
dictions, and  the  still  more  gloomy  aid  of  the 
solemn  visaged  widow,  Denis  was  left  with 
almost  an  empty  purse  to  guard  and  nurse  the 
feverish  patient. 

Stricken  with  profound  anxieties,  the  faith- 
ful Irishman  fed  the  fire,  kneeling  before  it, 
his  back  toward  his  master,  to  hide  a  face  that 
betrayed  his  feelings  too  plainly.  On  the  table 
lay  Lord  Clancarty's  cloak  and  plumed  hat 
and  the  hilt  of  the  sword  that  had  served  him 
so  ill  and  there,  too,  was  his  pistol  primed  and 
187 


My  Lady  Clancarty 

ready  for  use.  He  lay  watching  Denis,  fever 
flushed  but  in  his  senses,  though  more  than 
once  that  night  his  mind  had  wandered. 

The  stillness  of  the  place  was  broken  by  the 
stamping  of  a  horse's  feet  at  no  great  dis- 
tance . 

"  What  is  that  ? "  the  wounded  man  asked 
sharply. 

"  Our  horses,  sir,"  replied  Denis,  still  kneel- 
ing at  the  hearth  ;  "  they're  in  the  shed  out- 
side, me  lord,  an'  indade  't  is  fitter  fer  thim 
than  fer  yer  lordship  here." 

Clancarty  smiled  sadly.  "  It  matters  little, 
Denis,  and  is  like  to  matter  less.  How  far 
are  we  from  Newmarket  ?  " 

"  Not  far,  sir,  this  house  stands  off  th'  road 
ter  Bishop-Stortford,  a  half  mile  loike  from  the 
road,  in  a  patch  of  timber ;  a  very  pretty 
hiding-place  —  I  've  hed  me  eye  on  it  fer  a 
couple  of  wakes." 

"  You  thought  I  would  come  to  this,  then  ? 
Ah,  Denis,  I  fear  you  know  me  too  well,  old 
rogue  ! " 

"  Indade,  sir,  I  Ve  known  ye  from  a  boy 
in  Munster,  an'  I  nivir  knew  ye  to  take  care 
of  yerself.  Faix,  it 's  a  broken  head  ye  '11 
be  afther  havin'  more  often  thin  a  whole 
wan." 

188 


The  Valley  of  the  Shadow 

Clancarty  laughed  softly,  his  feverish  eyes 
on  the  fire. 

"  Denis,"  he  said  dreamily,  "  do  you  re- 
member the  wild  rides  over  the  green  fields 
of  Ireland  ? " 

Denis  bent  low  over  the  hearth  fanning  the 
blaze,  fighting  the  damp  and  the  green  wood. 

"  I  'm  afther  remimbering,  yer  lordship,"  he 
replied  hoarsely. 

"  It 's  a  long  way  back  to  those  days,"  said 
Lord  Clancarty ;  "  the  skies  were  blue  then. 
I  'm  a  poor  devil  now,  Denis,  and  like  to 
die  —  "  his  voice  died  away,  more  from  faint- 
ness  than  emotion,  and  after  awhile  he  asked 
for  water. 

Denis  rose  and  gave  it  to  him,  lifting  his 
head  as  gently  as  a  woman,  and  as  he  took  the 
glass  from  the  wounded  man's  lips  he  turned 
his  own  head  away  —  but  not  soon  enough,  a 
hot  tear  fell  on  the  earl's  forehead. 

"  Saint  Patrick,  Denis,  I  must  be  far  gone 
when  you  weep  ! "  Clancarty  said,  touched  in 
spite  of  himself,  "  I  did  not  know  you  could, 
you  old  heart  of  oak  !  " 

Denis  brushed  the  moisture  from  his  eyes. 

"  I  remimber  an  ould  man  in  County  Kerry, 
me  lord,  who  nivir  shid  a  tear  until  his  wife  was 
coming  out  of  a  fit,  and  thin  he  took  on  loike 
189 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

army  wild  gossoon.  He  'd  bin  gifting  ready 
fer  a  wake  an'  hed  ter  give  it  all  up,  and  whin 
his  neighbors  accused  him  of  it,  he  said  he 
nivir  wept  unless  a  person  was  gitting  well, 
an'  thin  he  wept  fer  joy — 'tis  so  with  me, 
me  lord." 

Lord  Clancarty  smiled,  turning  his  face  to 
the  wall.  He  was  deeply  touched  at  the 
simple  fellow's  devotion.  There  was  silence 
for  awhile  ;  the  fire  crackled  and  leaped  up  the 
chimney,  lighting  up  the  room  just  in  time,  for 
the  single  taper  sputtered  and  went  out. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  Lady  Clancarty 
and  Sir  Edward  were  searching  the  streets  of 
Newmarket. 

Lord  Clancarty  turned  his  head  wearily  and 
looking  down  at  his  own  hand  remembered. 

"  Denis,"  he  said  in  a  low  tone,  "  did  you 
give  the  ring  and  the  message  to  my  lady  ? " 

Denis  had  his  back  to  him  again,  his  square 
sturdy  outline  between  him  and  the  blaze. 

"  Yes,  me  lord,"  he  answered  stolidly. 

"  And  she  ?  "  the  fever  burned  on  Clan- 
carty's  cheeks,  his  eyes  shone ;  "  how  did  she 
take  it?" 

"  Very  quiet  loike,  me  lord,"  replied  Denis 
bluntly,  <f  she  wanted  to  know  what  hed  hap- 
pened, but  I  dared  not  tell  her  ladyship." 
190 


The  Valley  of  the  Shadow 

"She  inquired,  though?  she  was  anxious?" 
asked  the  earl  eagerly. 

Denis  was  stubborn.  "  Me  lord,  she  asked 
what  hed  happened  —  nothing  more.  She's  a 
great  lady,  sir,  and  as  proud  as  anny  quane." 

The  wounded  lover  sighed  and  turned  again 
to  the  wall :  here  was  no  consolation,  and  in 
his  bitterness  he  called  her  heartless.  The 
desolate  place,  his  almost  exhausted  resources, 
his  painful  wound,  all  combined  to  shake  even 
his  proud  resolution  ;  he  was  lonely  and  he  was 
desperate.  In  his  fevered  brain  rose  many 
visions  of  Betty,  the  beautiful,  the  careless, 
charming  Betty  that  he  had  known.  What 
heart  there  was  beneath  that  beautiful  exterior 
he  did  not  know ;  but  this  he  knew  —  he  was 
an  outcast  from  home  and  friends,  a  desperate 
and  forsaken  man  and  dangerously  wounded. 
He  was  no  novice  in  affairs  of  this  kind  and 
knew  well  the  nature  of  his  hurt  and  what  lack 
of  care  would  do  for  it.  His  life  passed  in 
quick  review  before  him ;  its  ambitions,  its 
wild  adventures,  its  dark  spots  of  reckless  dis- 
sipations, and  now  this  end  —  this  wretched, 
thwarted,  forsaken  end  —  creeping  away  like  a 
wounded  beast  to  die  alone.  It  might  well 
bring  bitterness  to  so  proud  and  daring  a  spirit 
as  his.  He  cursed  his  fate,  but  it  is  to  be  feared 
191 


My  Lady  Clancarty 

that  he  did  not  pray.  His  religion  had  been  a 
matter  of  convenience,  like  the  religion  of  many 
gay  young  soldiers  of  his  time.  It  failed  him 
now  and  she  failed  him  too,  — the  woman  who 
had  taken  such  possession  of  his  heart  and 
swept  him  out  of  the  common  way  into  a 
higher  passion.  He  loved  her — and  she  de- 
spised him.  He  groaned  sharply  as  if  in 
bodily  pain;  the  faithful  Irishman  was  at  his 
side  in  a  moment,  but  he  waved  him  away. 
His  soul  was  wrestling  with  despair  and  with 
hunger  for  the  sight  of  her.  He,  a  strong 
man  and  a  proud  one,  in  that  hour  of  physical 
agony  and  loneliness,  longed  to  see  her,  to  hear 
her  voice  before  he  died  —  if  die  he  must,  yet 
be  would  have  died  rather  than  send  for  her  — 
such  was  his  pride. 

The  night  wore  on  ;  the  horses  stamping 
restlessly  in  the  shed,  the  wind  increasing  in 
violence  until  the  old  house  creaked,  quiver- 
ing like  a  broken  reed.  Denis  sat  staring  at 
the  fire,  his  honest  face  distorted  with  grief  and 
now  and  then  a  slow  tear  creeping  down  his 
furrowed  cheek.  The  wound  was  a  desperate 
one,  and  counting  all  the  things  against  the 
patient,  —  exposure,  lack  of  nursing  and  food 
and  comforts,  the  man  did  not  believe  he  would 
live,  and  he  loved  him  like  a  son ;  he  had  car- 

192 


The  Valley  of  the  Shadow 

ried  him  on  his  shoulder  as  a  baby  ;  he  had 
taught  the  little  lad  to  sit  his  horse  and  use  his 
sword,  and  he  had  followed  him  in  Ireland,  in 
France,  in  Flanders,  through  weal  and  woe  — 
to  this !  Poor  Denis,  he  too  had  his  night  of 
tears  and  lamentations. 

Toward  midnight  Clancarty's  mind  wan- 
dered a  little  and  he  babbled  like  a  child  of 
the  green  turf  of  Ireland  and  the  streams 
where  he  had  paddled  barefoot,  and  of  the 
wild  birds  overhead.  He  talked  of  battles 
and  sieges  and  at  last  of  her,  of  Betty,  and 
Denis  cursed  her  in  his  heart  as  their  evil 
angel,  the  lodestar  that  had  drawn  the  young 
earl  to  his  fate.  Now  and  then  through  the 
night  the  wounded  man  called  for  water,  but 
toward  morning  he  fell  asleep,  and  Denis 
dropped  on  his  knees,  praying  to  all  the 
saints  to  send  healing  on  the  wings  of  that  fitful 
slumber. 

But  with  the  night  the  delirium  and  the 
weakness  of  spirit  passed  together.  At  day- 
break the  earl  opened  his  eyes  and  looked 
quietly  into  Denis's  worn  face.  He  smiled, 
the  old  reckless  smile,  if  somewhat  weaker  and 
paler  than  usual.  He  groped  feebly  under 
his  pillow  and  handed  the  man  his  purse. 

"A  small  store,  Denis,"  he  said,  "  but  'tis 
'3  193 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

yours  now,  to  do  with  as  you  can.  If  I  die  — 
ah,  you  must  even  bury  me  here,  I  suppose, 
though  I  long  for  Irish  soil  to  cover  me ! 
For  the  rest  —  go  home,  Denis,  take  no  risks 
for  my  sake.  Faith,  a  dead  man  will  not  need 
you." 

Denis  said  nothing,  he  could  not;  he  stood 
staring  at  the  floor. 

Lord  Clancarty  laughed  a  little  bitterly. 

"  Go  tend  the  horses,  man,"  he  said;  "  you 
saw  Neerwinden  —  why  do  you  stand  there 
like  a  woman  ?  Death  comes  but  once." 

"  Ah,  my  lord,"  said  Denis,  and  the  tears 
ran  down  his  cheeks,  "  ye  shall  not  die." 

Clancarty  turned  his  face  to  the  wall  lest  he, 
too,  should  show  weakness. 

"  My  dark  Rosaleen, 
My  fond  Rosaleen  ! 
Would  give  me  life  and  soul  anew, 
A  second  life,  a  soul  anew  ! 
My  dark  Rosaleen!  " 

he  murmured  faintly, 

"  My  own  Rosaleen!  " 

So  Denis  went  to  tend  the  horses,  drawing 
his  sleeve  across  his  eyes  and  hating  Lady 
Clancarty  from  the  bottom  of  his  simple 
devoted  heart. 

'94 


The  Valley  of  the  Shadow 

"  The  foine  lady,"  he  muttered ;  "  faix  —  I  'd 
loike  ter  make  her  shid  a  tear  or  two  —  fer  all 
her  bright  eyes  an'  her  red  cheeks  —  th'  heart- 
less colleen  !  " 


CHAPTER  XXII 

"UNTIL  DEATH   us  DO  PART" 

IT  was  nearly  a  week  later  and  Lady 
Betty's  chair  was  passing  down  the  main 
street  of  Newmarket  when  she  espied 
Denis  at  the  corner  of  a  lane  that  ran  between 
a  mercer's  shop  and  Drake's.  She  stopped 
her  chair,  and  springing  from  it  ran  after  him, 
ran  quite  regardless  of  the  people  in  the 
street  who  stood  gaping  at  the  charming  young 
woman  running  after  a  groom.  She  overtook 
him  at  the  end  of  the  lane ;  they  were  behind 
the  mercer's  shop,  and  Denis  started  at  the  sight 
of  her  and  stood  irresolute,  eying  her  grimly. 
She  snatched  the  vizard  from  her  face. 

"  Where  is  your  master  ? "  she  demanded 
breathlessly,  "  where  is  Lord  Clancarty  ?  " 

The  Irishman  shut  his  lips  stubbornly ;  he 
did  not  trust  the  daughter  of  Lord  Sunderland. 

"  Will  you  not  tell  me  ? "  cried  Betty,  in 
distress,  "I  know  that  he  is  wounded — I 
must  see  him  !  I  will  not  be  denied  !  I  com- 
196 


"  Until  Death  us  do  Part " 

mand  you  —  nay,"  she  added,  reading  his 
inflexible  face,  "I  beg  and  pray  you,  —  give 
me  news  of  him  !  " 

Denis  eyed  her  closely,  relenting  just  a  little, 
and  that  little  was  enough. 

"  He's  very  ill,"  he  said  sullenly. 

"  Is  he  in  danger  ?  "  cried  Lady  Clancarty, 
tears  gathering  in  her  eyes,  "  tell  me,  man,  tell 
me,"  and  she  wrung  her  hands.  "  Can't  gold 
tempt  you  ?  Take  me  to  him  !  " 

Denis  made  a  strange  motion ;  it  seemed  as 
if  he  would  snatch  her  purse  and  then  forbore 
to  do  it,  but  his  eyes  devoured  it. 

"  Faix,  I  don't  know  av  I  can  thrust  ye," 
he  said,  looking  at  *her  keenly  ;  "  ye  've  done 
him  harm  enough  already." 

"  But  I  trust  you  !  "  cried  Lady  Betty,  "  I 
am  your  master's  wife,  —  take  me  to  him. 
See,  I  will  go  with  you  alone  —  can't  you 
trust  me  now  ?  " 

The  man  looked  down  yet  a  little  while,  in 
evident  hesitation,  and  she  watched  him, 
trembling,  not  with  fear,  like  another  woman, 
but  with  hope. 

"  Faix,  I  '11  take  ye,"  he  said  bluntly,  "  if 
ye  '11  go  alone.  Look  ye,  me  lady,  if  ye  be- 
thray  him,  I  'd  as  lief  kill  ye  as  not.  I  love 
me  lord  ! " 

197 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

The  color  rose  in  Betty's  face,  softly,  sweetly, 
her  eyes  shone. 

"  And  so  do  I  !  "  she  said ;  "  lead  on,  I  will 
follow  —  and  alone." 

"  Come,  thin,"  he  said  at  last,  "  't  is  a  long 
way  an'  the  place  is  n't  fit  fer  a  foine  lady,  but 
he's  there — tho',  by  the  Virgin,  I  don't 
know  what  he  '11  say  ter  me  fer  bringing  ye  !  " 

As  he  spoke  he  cast  a  glance  back  at  the 
chair  and  its  bearers  waiting  at  the  mouth  of 
the  lane,  the  men  staring  after  their  mistress, 
and  with  them  a  knot  of  idlers  who  had  gathered 
to  watch  the  countess.  Lady  Clancarty  turned 
her  back  upon  them. 

"  Lead  on !  "  she  commanded,  impatient 
and  imperious. 

Denis  led  the  way  down  the  narrow  lane, 
out  of  sight  of  the  group  at  the  mercer's  shop, 
and  into  another  byway,  and  so  on  through 
the  outskirts  of  Newmarket.  He  did  not 
take  the  public  road  but  struck  across  the 
fields,  passing  close  to  the  spot  where  Lord 
Clancarty  had  fought  the  duel.  Lady  Betty 
shuddered  as  they  approached  it.  They  were 
out  of  sight  of  the  last  straggling  houses  now, 
crossing  the  meadows ;  the  sun  shone  as  it  had 
upon  that  day  when  she  had  walked  first  with 
Clancarty,  but  there  was  more  of  a  touch  of 

198 


«  Until  Death  us  do  Part r 

autumn  upon  the  scene.  Here,  beyond  the 
light  green  turf,  was  a  field  of  stubble,  and 
there,  in  the  green  hedgerow,  were  yellow 
leaves  ;  and  the  stream,  too,  that  flowed  across 
the  meadows,  had  brown  depths  and  shadows 
where  the  pebbles  lay  thickest,  and  the  purple 
distance  took  on  gray. 

They  had  left  the  open  and  were  skirting  a 
little  woodland  where  the  dry  leaves  rustled 
overhead,  and  once  she  heard  the  "kourre, 
kourre  !  "  of  the  pigeons. 

Whither  was  he  going?  Lady  Betty  won- 
dered. The  place  grew  more  and  more 
solitary ;  they  followed  a  path,  but  one  so 
little  used  that  briars  fell  across  it  and  one  of 
them  tore  her  frock :  but  she  went  on  fear- 
lessly, for  never  did  a  braver  heart  throb  in  a 
woman's  bosom.  Her  spirit  was  intrepid. 
She  looked  about  her  through  the  sparsely 
growing  trees  and  saw  long  distances  without 
a  sign  of  life  or  habitation,  and  still  Denis 
plodded  on  and  she  followed,  pity  and  love 
and  remorse  growing  in  her  heart  at  every 
step.  Her  lover  and  her  husband  in  poverty 
and  obscurity,  a  proscribed  rebel,  and  she  rich. 
Nothing  could  have  appealed  so  to  her  full 
heart.  The  thought  stung  her  and  the  tears 
gathered  on  her  dark  lashes. 
199 


My  Lady  Clancarty 

As  Denis  had  predicted,  the  walk  was  a  long 
one,  but  she  did  not  heed  it,  she  kept  steadily 
on  behind  him;  and  at  last,  through  an  open- 
ing in  the  trees,  she  saw  two  horses  grazing  in 
a  little  strip  of  greensward,  and  beyond,  the 
lonely  farmhouse.  As  her  guide  turned  to- 
wards it  Betty  caught  her  breath  and  stood  still 
—  for  a  single  moment  —  the  place  was  so 
poor,  so  dark,  so  uninviting,  and  the  vicinity 
of  Newmarket  swarmed  with  banditti ;  even 
when  the  king's  coach  took  the  road  it  had  to 
be  strongly  guarded.  This  old,  weather-stained 
brown  house,  with  half  its  window  shutters 
broken,  the  green  moss  on  its  slanting  gables, 
and  the  strong,  iron-bound  door,  with  the 
broken  stone  before  it,  was  sad  and  forbidding 
enough  without  the  silence  and  the  woodland 
shadows  that  enfolded  it.  Betty  stood  and 
stared  at  it  apprehensively,  and  then  she  thought 
of  Clancarty.  Her  hesitation  was  so  soon  over 
that  the  man,  her  guide,  was  scarcely  aware  of 
it.  He  went  on  steadily,  hearing  her  light 
step  rustling  on  the  fallen  leaves  behind  him, 
and  at  last  he  stopped  at  the  door  and  waited. 

"  Is  he  here  ?  "  she  whispered. 

Denis  nodded,  opening  the  door  and  guiding 
her  into  the  kitchen  where  the  widow,  Clan- 
carty's  hostess  and  nurse,  stood  before  the 


200 


"  Until  Death  us  do  Part" 

hearth  stirring  a  stew  in  a  great  pot  that  was 
suspended  on  a  hook  over  blazing  logs.  At 
the  sound  of  their  entrance  she  turned  sharply 
and  stared  at  Lady  Clancarty  in  grim  amaze- 
ment, not  uttering  a  word.  Her  stern,  sad 
face  and  suspicious  eye  sent  the  hot  blood  up 
under  her  ladyship's  vizard,  but  even  this, 
though  it  embarrassed  her,  could  not  hold 
her  back.  She  stood  an  instant,  though,  in  the 
centre  of  the  bare  kitchen,  in  her  gay  fur- 
belows, holding  up  her  skirts  with  one  hand 
while  the  other  involuntarily  adjusted  her 
mask.  Meanwhile,  the  widow  continued  to 
eye  her  sternly,  even  while  she  stirred  the 
broth. 

Denis  was  quick  enough  to  perceive  the 
difficulty. 

"  'T  is  Lady  Clancarty,"  he  said  bluntly  to 
the  woman,  indicating  Lady  Betty's  lovely 
figure  with  a  backward  sweep  of  the  hand. 

Clancarty's  hostess  courtesied  profoundly,  but 
the  fair  intruder  felt  that  those  stern  eyes  said 
plainly,  "  A  likely  story,  the  brazen  hussy  !  " 

"  I  have  come  to  see  my  husband,"  Betty 
faltered,  her  voice  trembling  a  little. 

"Very  well,  ma'am,"  retorted  the  widow 
grimly,  and  turning  her  back  deliberately,  she 
began  to  flourish  the  huge  spoon  again. 

2OI 


My  Lady  Clancarty 

The  poor  young  wife,  meanwhile,  fled  after 
Denis  across  the  kitchen,  her  heart  beating 
wildly.  He  was  waiting  in  the  entry  and  led 
her  down  the  hall  to  the  opposite  side  of  the 
house,  before  he  finally  halted  at  a  closed  door 
and  waited.  At  a  sign  from  her  he  let  her 
enter  alone.  The  place  was  poorly  lighted  by 
small  windows,  and  as  she  entered  and  heard 
the  door  close  behind  her,  her  heart  stood  still. 
And  then  — 

Poor  Betty,  her  tears  blinded  her;  she  for- 
got the  suspicious  widow.  The  room  was  so 
poor,  so  bare,  so  wretched ;  the  low,  dark 
rafters,  the  stone  floor,  the  miserable  furniture. 
And  stretched  on  the  bed  lay  her  husband,  white 
as  death ;  his  head  turned  so  that  he  could  not 
see  her,  but  she  saw  him,  saw  the  pallor,  the 
wasted  cheek,  the  helpless  figure.  She  did  not 
move  and  he  had  not  heard  her  enter,  he 
seemed  to  be  sleeping.  She  took  off  her  mask 
and  stood  waiting.  What  would  he  say  ?  For 
the  first  time  her  courage  failed  her,  her  knees 
trembled  under  her.  Would  he  hate  her,  and 
despise  her  for  coming?  She  stirred  and  he 
heard  the  rustle  and  looked  up.  In  a  moment 
it  seemed  as  if  the  sun  had  risen  and  shone 
full  upon  his  face :  it  was  glorified,  but  still 
she  did  not  go  nearer  to  him. 

202 


"  Until  Death  us  do  Part ' 

"  Ah,"  he  said,  "  I  see  it  is  but  a  dream ! 
It  has  mocked  me  before.  My  fever  must 
be  upon  me  again,  but,  oh,  sweet  vision, 
stay  with  me  this  time,  else  I  perish  here  of 
despair." 

„  "  Can  you  forgive  me  ?  "  she  sobbed,  run- 
ning to  him  and  falling  on  her  knees  beside  the 
bed,  "  oh,  I  have  suffered  too,  the  wound  that 
hurt  you  pierced  me  also  to  the  heart !  For- 
give me  ! " 

He  put  his  arm  around  her,  drawing  her 
close,  with  all  his  feeble  strength,  and  looking 
at  her  with  hungry  eyes. 

"  My  darling  !  "  he  said  tenderly,  "  'tis  you 
—  you  in  the  flesh  ?  —  and  you  came  to  see 
me?  —  the  beggar,  the  exile,  the  traitor  —  " 

"  Don't,  don't !  "  cried  Betty,  in  a  passion 
of  grief,  "  I  never  meant  it —  it  was  my  tongue, 
my  reckless,  wicked  tongue  —  oh,  my  lord, 
forgive  me !  " 

He  smiled ;  he  was  so  weak  that  tears 
gathered  in  his  eyes. 

"  What  have  I  to  forgive,  {  my  own  Rosa- 
leen  '  ?  "  he  asked  tenderly  ;  "  I  am  not  worthy 
of  you —  I  am,  indeed,  an  exile  and  a  vagrant, 
my  queen,  and  no  mate  for  you." 

"  You  are  my  husband,"  Betty  said,  blushing 
divinely. 

203 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

"Betty,"  he  whispered  soft  and  low,  "you 
have  never  kissed  me  !  " 

"  I  have  never  kissed  any  man,  my  Lord 
Clancarty,"  she  replied  softly,  her  face  radiant, 
"  I  will  never  kiss  any  man  —  but  the  one  I 
love  best !  " 

He  looked  at  her  silently,  his  eyes  glowing, 
holding  her  closer. 

"  Betty,"  he  murmured,  "  do  you  love  me  ? 
—  your  husband  ?  " 

Betty  did  not  reply  in  words.  She  put  her 
arms  around  his  neck  and  kissed  him  ten- 
derly, laying  her  soft  cheek  against  his  with  a 
sob. 

"My  darling,"  he  said,  after  a  pause,  "  it  is 
too  much  to  ask  you  to  leave  all  and  follow 
me  —  too  much.  I  am  only  a  beggar,  Betty, 
and  an  outcast !  " 

She  looked  up  into  his  eyes  and  he  thought 
her  face  had  never  been  so  beautiful. 

"  My  husband,"  she  said. 

His  tears  wet  her  cheek  as  he  kissed  her 
again  and  again. 

"  My  best  beloved,"  he  said,  " f  my  own 
Rosaleen '  !  *  Until  death  us  do  part,'  do  you 
remember  ?  The  bond  was  made  in  heaven, 
Betty ! " 

She  smiled  through  her  tears. 
204 


«  Until  Death  us  do  Part ': 

"  I  love  you,"  she  murmured,  "  and  shall 
forever  and  forever." 

"  Will  you  leave  all,  Betty  ? "  he  asked 
longingly,  "  all,  and  follow  me  into  exile  and 
poverty  ?  " 

"  Unto  the  ends  of  the  earth,  my  lord  and 
master,"  she  answered  smiling,  the  old  Betty 
suddenly  peeping  out  at  him  from  her  dark  eyes; 
"  if  I  have  you  I  have  all !  "  she  whispered. 

Warm  hearted,  impulsive,  careless  Lady 
Betty  was  not  one  to  give  her  heart  unless  she 
gave  it  royally. 

After  a  moment  she  raised  her  face,  rosy  and 
tear-stained,  but  smiling. 

"  Did  you  know  me  at  first  ? "  she  asked, 
"  in  the  woods  at  Althorpe  ?  Did  you  divine 
who  I  was  ?  " 

He  laughed  softly,  taking  her  face  between 
his  hands  and  holding  it  fondly,  framed  thus, 
so  she  could  not  hide  it  from  him. 

"  Did  I  know  the  sun  when  it  shone  ? "  he 
asked.  "Ah,  my  little  witch,  I  knew  you!  I 
had  been  watching  you  for  two  days  and  more, 
whenever  I  could  catch  a  glimpse  of  you.  Did 
you  know  me,  madam  ?  " 

She  smiled  adorably  and  tried  to  hide  her 
blushes  in  his  hands. 

"  I  felt  it,"  she  whispered,  "  I  think  I  knew 
205 


My  Lady  C  lane  arty 

you  by  intuition  —  from  that  first  moment  — 
but  afterwards  —  " 

"  But  afterwards  ? "  he  asked  relentlessly. 

She  laughed,  her  eyes  shining.  "You  tried 
to  deceive  me,"  she  said,  "  in  the  garden  —  you 
remember?  — for  a  little  while,  I  thought  you 
could  n't  be  you,  and  —  "  her  voice  trailed  off, 
her  face  was  as  scarlet  as  any  poppy. 

cc  And  ?  "  he  persisted  gleefully,  holding  her 
still. 

"  I  thought  —  I  thought  that  I  had  given 
my  heart  to  a  stranger  —  and  I  was  married  — 
and  —  "  she  broke  off,  she  could  not  speak  for 
his  kisses. 

"  Would  you  have  divorced  the  beggar  for 
me  ?  "  he  whispered  maliciously. 

<c  O  Donough  ! "  she  cried,  throwing  her 
arms  around  his  neck  in  the  very  ecstasy  of 
her  joy  at  her  escape  from  such  a  dilemma,  "  O 
Donough,  it  would  have  broken  my  heart  if 
you  had  n't  been  — you  I  " 

Again  a  silence  and  then, — 

"  Why  did  you  put  your  foot  on  the  sham- 
rock ?  "  he  whispered. 

She  hid  her  face  on  his  neck.  "  I  wanted 
it,"  she  confessed,  in  a  smothered  tone,  "  I 
wanted  it  to  keep  !  Where  is  it  ?  " 

He  drew  it  from  his  breast,  a  withered  sprig 
206 


"  Until  Death  us  do  Part'' 

folded  in  a  piece  of  paper,  and  she  seized  upon 
it  and  kissed  it. 

"  Nay,"  he  said,  "that  you  shall  not  —  not 
even  my  shamrock  shall  share  your  kisses  with 
me !  That  is  one  stolen  from  me,  madam, 
give  me  the  shamrock." 

"  Never  ! "  she  defied  him,  clasping  it  to 
her  own  bosom,  "  never  —  't  is  mine  to  wear 
for  your  sake." 

His  eyes  shone.  "  My  Irish  beauty,"  he 
said,  "  roisin  bheag  dubh  !  —  if  I  may  not  have 
the  shamrock  I  must  have  the  kiss  back." 

"  Why  did  you  treat  me  so  that  last  night  ?  " 
he  went  on,  "  you  perverse  witch,  you  tor- 
mentor, you  deserve  to  suffer  for  flouting 
your  lord  and  master." 

"  That  was  it,"  she  said,  "  you  came  in  with 
the  air  of  a  conquering  hero  ;  I  thought  you 
would  not  woo  me,  that  you  claimed  me  too 
much  like  a  master ;  that,  perhaps,  you  did  n't 
love  me,  but  only  felt  that  you  were  my 
husband." 

He  laughed  quietly.  "You  coquette  !"  he 
said  fondly,  "you  knew  I  loved  you  —  you 
saw  it  in  my  eyes,  for  I  know  they  devoured 
you  —  you  felt  it !  " 

Betty  hung  her  head  guiltily.  "  I  could  not 
help  it,"  she  said,  with  a  little  sob,  "  I  loved 
207 


My  Lady  Clan  car ty 

you, —  and  suddenly  I  thought  you  knew  it, 
aud  were  careless  of  it !  " 

He  kissed  her  hands  softly.  "You  knew  I 
loved  you  !  "  he  exclaimed  reproachfully. 

She  looked  up  through  her  tears.  "  I  love 
to  hear  you  say  it,"  she  murmured  rapturously. 

After  awhile  she  looked  around  the  misera- 
ble room. 

"  My  love,"  she  cried,  "  can't  I  take  you 
away  from  this  awful  place  ?  It  breaks  my 
heart  to  have  you  here !  With  that  female 
dragon,  too." 

"  Nay,  grieve  not,  Betty,"  he  answered 
smiling,  "it  shines  with  you  in  it.  How  I 
shall  picture  you  here — in  your  white  and 
pink  gown,  with  the  little  hood  on  your  head 
—  the  house  is  a  palace,  dear!  It  is  too  good 
for  a  poor  man  now." 

"  And  you  are  poor  !  "  she  exclaimed,  her 
tears  breaking  out  afresh,  "  you  are  poor  and 
I —  I  have  everything  !  " 

"  Nay,"  he  replied,  "  I  am  rich  in  having 
you  ! " 

But  her  tears  fell.  She  could  not  leave  him 
so,  she  cried,  clinging  to  him  ;  the  thought  of 
that  poor  place  would  break  her  heart !  And 
it  took  all  his  persuasion  and  caresses  to  win 
a  smile  from  her  again. 
208 


"  Until  Death  us  do  Part " 

"  And  I  must  go,"  she  said  at  last,  showing 
an  April  face,  smiles  and  tears  together,  "  I 
must  go,  or  else  they  will  miss  me,  and  if 
Spencer  found  you  here,  I  know  not  what  he 
would  do ;  he  hates  a  Jacobite  !  But,  oh, 
my  darling,  'twill  not  be  long  ere  I  shall 
send  some  token  to  you,  or  have  some  message 
from  you." 

"  Not  long,"  he  said,  his  eyes  sparkling,  "  not 
long,  dear  Betty  !  As  soon  as  I  can  walk  —  a 
plague  upon  this  wound  —  as  soon  as  I  can 
move  I  will  come  to  you  !  I  can't  die  now  !" 

"Oh,  the  risk  of  it!  "  she  cried,  but  her  face 
shone,  and  then  suddenly,  "  Donough,"  she 
said,  "  why  had  you  to  fight  my  Lord  Savile  ? 
and  after  all  I  did  to  prevent  it !  " 

"  He  insulted  me,  my  love,"  Clancarty  re- 
plied, "and  —  and,  well,  dear  heart,  after  that 
night  I  thought  you  might  care  for  him  and 
not  for  me,  and  it  drove  me  mad." 

Betty  smiled  enchantingly. 

"You  were  jealous,"  she  said,  "jealous  of 
me!" 

"  I  was  mad  with  it,  Betty,"  he  declared 
passionately  ;  "  and  here  I  lie,  curse  this  wound, 
like  a  log,  and  other  men  are  near  you,  bask 
in  your  smiles,  kiss  your  hand  !  It  drives  me 
to  destruction  ! " 

14  209 


My  Lady  Clancarty 

And  she  looking  down  at  him  in  his  weak- 
ness, thin  and  fever  flushed,  —  she  fell  upon 
her  knees  again  beside  him,  holding  her  soft 
cheek  against  his,  and  saying  only  two  words 
—  softly,  sweetly,  with  adorable  tenderness  — 

"  My  husband  !  " 

Afterwards,  in  the  loneliness  of  the  woodland, 
Betty  pressed  a  full  purse  into  Denis's  unre- 
luctant  hand. 

"  Not  a  word  to  your  lord  —  on  your  life  !  " 
she  charged  him ;  "  but  get  all  he  needs  and 
come  to  me  for  more  —  and  we  must  move 
him  to  some  comfortable  refuge  at  once.  Mind 
you,  everything  he  needs  and  instantly." 

Denis's  face  widened  into  a  seraphic  smile 
as  he  pressed  the  purse  fondly. 

"  By  the  Virgin,  my  lady,"  he  said,  "  I  shall 
have  to  be  afther  telling  him  a  legend  —  faix, 
he  '11  think  I  've  found  an  angel  of  a  Jew,  yer 
ladyship !  " 


210 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

MY    LORD    SPENCER 

IT  happened  that  when  Lady  Clancarty  came 
back  from  her  visit  to  the  house  in  the 
forest,  weary  and  tear-stained  but  happier 
and  more  peaceful,  she  found  herself  in  trouble. 
She  had  been  gone  a  long  time  and  unhappily 
her  absence  had  been  noticed  and  commented 
upon.  Faithful  and  devoted  as  Alice  was,  she 
was  not  quickwitted  enough  to  invent  excuses, 
and  was,  indeed,  thoroughly  frightened  and 
distressed  by  her  mistress'  absence  which  she 
could  not  help  connecting  in  some  way  with 
Lord  Clancarty.  There  had  been,  in  conse- 
quence, a  great  hubbub  at  the  Lion's  Head, 
and  men  were  running  hither  and  yon ;  while 
the  servants,  who  had  carried  her  chair,  to  save 
themselves  from  blame  had  not  failed  to  give 
a  highly  colored  account  of  her  meeting  with  a 
strange  man  in  the  lane  and  her  disappearance 
in  his  company.  When  Lady  Betty  came 
quietly  back  through  the  garden,  hoping  to 
211 


My  Lady  Clancarty 

escape  to  her  room  unobserved,  she  met 
Lord  Spencer  with  his  face  as  white  as  a  sheet 
and  his  lids  drooped  low  over  his  eyes.  He 
stood  in  the  door  of  the  inn  that  opened  upon 
the  court,  and  his  sister  came  upon  him  so 
unexpectedly  that  she  had  no  time  for  flight. 
She  knew  the  signs  too  well,  however,  not  to 
be  prepared,  and  her  old  spirit  returned  to  her 
stronger  than  ever,  and  she  held  her  head  high. 
But  Spencer  did  not  intend  to  open  the  quarrel 
there  in  a  public  place,  his  mood  was  more 
dangerous.  He  was  quite  aware  that  the  ser- 
vants, and  even  the  landlord,  were  peeping  at 
them  from  the  kitchen  way,  and  he  bowed 
courteously  to  his  sister  and  offered  her  his 
hand. 

"  Permit  me,  madam,  to  escort  you  to  our 
mother,"  he  said  so  suavely  that  the  culprit 
shivered. 

"  I  can  go  quite  well  alone,  Charles,"  she  re- 
plied passing  him  with  acareless  manner  that  was 
scarcely  a  faithful  indication  of  her  mood  ;  "  I 
am  too  weary  to  drink  tea  or  play  gleek,"  she 
added  yawning ;  "  faith,  't  is  tiresome  to  walk  in 
the  fields." 

"  Extremely  so,"  replied  my  lord,  as  smooth 
as  silk,  "  especially  when  you  bring  wood  briars 
back  upon  your  farthingale." 

212 


My  Lord  Spencer 

Lady  Betty  blushed  red  as  a  poppy  as  she 
glanced  down  at  the  telltale  twig  caught  in  the 
ruffles  of  her  skirts. 

"  Pull  it  off,  my  dear,"  she  said  sweetly. 

"  Nay,  I  fear  the  thorns,"  he  replied,  with 
distant  politeness. 

She  plucked  it  away  herself  with  a  little 
grimace. 

"  You  are  wise,  Charles,"  she  said,  "  't  is 
well  to  keep  your  fingers  out  of  other  people's 
troubles." 

He  bit  his  lip,  giving  her  a  furious  glance  as 
she  tripped  up  the  stairs  ahead  of  him.  But, 
though  he  followed  more  deliberately,  he  en- 
tered Lady  Sunderland's  room  but  a  moment 
after  her,  and  in  time  to  hear  her  reply  to  his 
mother's  sharp  inquiry. 

"  I  walked  a  little  way  in  the  meadows, 
madam,"  said  Betty,  with  delightful  mendac- 
ity ;  "  you  know  you  recommended  it  for  my 
complexion." 

"  A  fine  diversion,"  remarked  Lord  Spencer, 
with  a  sneer,  "  but  who,  pray,  was  your 
companion  ?  " 

Lady  Betty  gave  him  a  sidelong  look  that 
spoke  volumes. 

"Faith,"  she  retorted,  with  a  shrug,  "the 
world  would  be  a  dull  place  with  no  men  in  it." 
213 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

Lady  Sunderland  tittered  behind  her  fan  ;  if 
anything  appealed  to  her,  it  was  her  daughter's 
absolute  audacity.  But  Spencer  was  furious. 

"  You  choose  a  fine  subject  for  a  jest,"  he 
said  ;  "  I  would  have  you  know,  madam,  that 
my  sister  cannot  run  about  Newmarket  with  a 
groom  ! " 

Then  Betty  turned  upon  him  like  a  fury. 

"  Do  not  dare  to  say  that  to  me  again,"  she 
cried,  her  bosom  heaving  with  passion  ;  "  you 
forget  to  whom  you  speak  !  Do  you  think  — 
do  you  dare  to  think  —  that  I  am  not  as  ca- 
pable as  you  of  defending  my  own  honor  and 
dignity  ?  More,  sir,  I  would  have  you  know 
that  I  am  accountable  to  none  but  my  father 
and  —  my  husband  !  "  and  she  swept  past  him 
and  out  of  the  room  like  a  whirlwind. 

The  older  countess  sank  back  in  her  chair 
and  giggled  like  a  girl. 

"  La  !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  her  spirit !  —  I  'd 
give  ten  guineas  to  see  her  do  that  over  again, 
—  and  you  deserved  it,  Charles,  my  love." 

Her  son  gave  her  an  exasperated  look. 

"  That  fellow  is  Clancarty  —  I  am  sure  of 
it,"  he  said  fiercely,  "  and  the  minx  is  in  com- 
munication with  him  —  but,  by  Saint  Thomas, 
I  '11  break  it  up  —  if  I  have  to  break  his  head  !  " 

"  Fudge,  my  love,"  replied  the  countess 
214 


My  Lord  Spencer 

tittering,  "  't  will  take  more  than  your  wit  to 
keep  two  lovers  apart ;  but  never  fear,  she  '11 
not  give  up  her  wealth  and  comfort  to  run 
away  with  him  —  she  has  too  much  sense." 

Lord  Spencer's  eyelids  drooped  lower. 
"  I  '11  see  that  she  never  has  the  opportunity, 
madam,"  he  said,  in  a  cool  voice  that  had  the 
effect  of  making  Lady  Sunderland  shiver  much 
as  Betty  had. 

Meanwhile,  Lady  Clancarty  poured  out  her 
hopes  and  fears  and  half-formed  plans  to  Alice 
Lynn.  The  first  thing  to  be  done  was  to  get 
the  wounded  man  into  a  place  of  comfort,  where 
he  would  also  be  secure,  and  in  this  Alice  could 
help  more  than  her  mistress  had  dreamed. 
The  girl  had  an  uncle  living  in  Cambridge,  a 
mercer,  and  a  man  with  Jacobite  leanings,  and 
she  at  once  suggested  his  house  as  a  possible 
shelter  for  Lord  Clancarty.  After  some  dis- 
cussion, her  mistress  eagerly  accepted  this 
opportunity,  especially  as  she  must  leave 
Newmarket  soon  for  London  to  join  her 
father,  and  Cambridge  would  be  near.  There 
were  many  secret  missives  passing  to  and  fro 
between  the  house  in  the  woods  and  the  Lion's 
Head,  but  Betty  found  herself  too  closely 
watched  by  Spencer  to  dare  another  visit,  and 
by  the  end  of  a  week  Lord  Clancarty  was 
215 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

strong  enough  to  be  moved  to  Cambridge,  to 
her  infinite  relief.  The  journey  was  safely 
and  secretly  accomplished,  and  she  had  the 
happiness  of  knowing  that  he  would  have  both 
care  and  nursing,  besides  greater  security. 

By  this  time  the  races  were  over,  and  the 
stream  of  people  had  poured  back  to  the  capi- 
tal, where  Parliament  had  been  opened  by  the 
king,  and  Newmarket  was  empty  and  quiet. 
Lady  Sunderland  went  to  Windsor,  leaving 
her  daughter  to  go  on  to  London  to  the  earl's 
house,  where  Sunderland  and  Spencer  had 
preceded  her. 

Lady  Clancarty  went  up  to  London,  there- 
fore, with  her  two  women,  Alice  and  Melissa 
Thurle,  and  tried  to  wait  with  patience  for  an 
opportunity  to  see  her  husband  again.  She 
was  cheered  and  solaced,  however,  by  frequent 
secret  messages  that  assured  her,  not  only  of 
his  safety,  but  that  he  was  mending  rapidly. 
He  had  even  been  able  to  write  her  one  letter 
himself,  which  she  kept  hidden  in  her  bosom 
by  day  and  under  her  pillow  by  night,  though 
it  was  only  a  meagre  little  letter,  written  while 
his  hand  was  still  unsteady. 

"  Dear  heart,"  he  wrote,  "  was  it  a  dream  — 
that  lovely  vision  in  the  dark  cabin  ?  Were 
those  soft  kisses  immaterial  too  ?  Or  did  I 
216 


My  Lord  Spencer 

really  hold  you  in  my  arms  and  feel  your 
cheek  against  my  own  ?  Dear  heart,  dear  wife, 
I  love  you,  yet  am  I  parted  from  you  - 
but  not  for  long  —  not  for  long  !  Else  would 
this  earth  be  a  purgatory  and  I  should  wish 
the  wound  had  been  fatal !  Forgive  me,  I  do 
not  doubt  you,  —  I  should  rather  die." 

But  the  time  came,  at  last,  when  it  was  even 
dangerous  to  receive  or  send  these  missives,  for 
Lord  Spencer  was  watchful  and  suspicious  still, 
and  for  Clancarty's  sake  Betty  forced  herself 
to  be  patient,  —  the  sharpest  trial  of  all. 

The  weeks  passed  and  the  cold  Saint  Agnes 
weather  was  upon  them.  Parliament  was  in 
the  depths  of  its  wrangles  over  the  military 
establishment,  but  the  House  of  Commons, 
though  never  more  unruly  than  in  these  last 
years  of  William  the  Third,  was  in  a  somewhat 
milder  mood  —  alarmed  by  the  threatened  dif- 
ficulty of  the  Spanish  Succession  —  and  it  per- 
mitted the  ministers  to  put  the  most  favorable 
interpretation  upon  the  law  and  retain  ten 
thousand  fighting  men.  Further,  it  expressed 
its  attachment  to  the  sovereign's  person  by 
suspending  the  benefit  of  the  Habeas  Corpus 
Act  twelve  months  longer  from  Bernardi  and 
the  other  conspirators  involved  in  the  late 
Assassination  Plot.  Lord  Sunderland  was 
217 


My  Lady  Clancarty 

almost  constantly  at  the  king's  elbow,  absorbed 
in  political  affairs,  and  Spencer  stood  out  as  a 
shining  light  among  the  younger  Whigs. 

Meanwhile,  Lady  Clancarty  fretted  her  heart 
out  because  she  could  neither  see  Clancarty  nor 
get  a  message  from  him.  Her  suite  of  rooms 
at  Leicester  House  —  which  was  now  the  town 
house  of  the  Earl  of  Sunderland  —  were  never 
so  dreary.  She  paced  them  day  and  night  in 
her  anxiety,  and  struggle  as  she  would  to  hide 
it,  there  were  signs  of  it  upon  her  face.  Yet 
she  played  her  part  well  as  the  mistress  of  her 
father's  house,  and  she  had  never  been  more 
lovely  or  more  courted.  Her  receptions  were 
always  crowded,  and  at  every  ball  she  was  the 
centre  of  a  lively  group  of  admirers  and  friends. 
But  with  it  all  her  heart  ached. 

It  was  one  evening,  the  night  of  my  Lord 
Bridgewater's  ball  at  his  house  in  the  Barbican, 
that  Lady  Clancarty  stood  looking  at  her  own 
reflection,  all  dressed  for  the  rout.  Her  gown, 
a  wondrous  affair  of  silver  lace  and  white  bro- 
cade, became  her  well,  and  her  luxuriant  hair 
was  deftly  dressed  with  one  large  diamond 
flashing  like  a  star  amidst  the  curls.  She 
turned  away  from  the  glass  smiling — she  could 
not  help  a  certain  pleasure  in  the  picture  —  but 
the  next  she  sighed  and  looked  about  for  Alice. 

218 


"Where  is  the  girl  ?"  she  said  to  herself; 
"  alas  !  what  a  silly  fool  I  am  to  deck  myself 
out  like  this  —  for  what  ?  I  know  not,  since 
he  cannot  see  me  and  I  cannot  tell  how  it  fares 
with  him." 

Her  mood  changed  swiftly ;  a  moment  be- 
fore she  had  thought  of  herself  and  of  the  ball 
—  now  she  stood  dejected,  her  head  bowed, 
tears  in  her  eyes. 

"  Ah,  if  I  only  knew  how  he  was,"  she  mur- 
mured softly,  "  if  I  could  only  see  him  well !  " 

As  she  spoke  the  door  opened  gently  and 
Alice  looked  in,  glancing  around  the  room. 

"  What  ails  you,  Alice  ?  "  asked  her  mistress, 
"  you  wear  the  face  of  a  conspirator  ;  where 
have  you  been  ?  " 

Alice  laid  her  finger  on  her  lips  and  with- 
drew—  to  Betty's  infinite  astonishment  —  and 
the  next  instant  the  door  opened  wider  and  a 
tall  man,  cloaked  and  booted  for  riding,  crossed 
the  threshold. 

Betty  uttered  a  strange  little  cry  ;  her  beau- 
tiful India  fan  fell  on  the  floor  and  broke  in  a 
thousand  pieces.  Lord  Clancarty  sprang  to- 
ward her  and  caught  her  in  his  arms  in  time 
to  keep  her  from  falling. 

"  My  darling !  "  he  said,  "  I  came  too  un- 
expectedly—  I  have  done  wrong." 
219 


My  Lady  Clancarty 

"  O  Donough  !  "  she  cried,  smiling  through 
her  tears,  "  I  am  so  glad  —  so  glad !  "  and  she 
held  him  off  to  look  at  him  ;  "  pale,"  she  said, 
"  and  thin  —  but  mine  —  mine  own  !  " 

"  Ah,  Betty  darling !  "  he  whispered,  cover- 
ing her  face  with  kisses,  "  I  have  been  dying 
for  this  —  to  come  to  you  again  !  " 

"  And  you  came  here  ! "  she  said,  a  little 
catch  in  her  voice,  "  here,  in  this  house,  —  oh, 
the  danger  of  it !  Spencer  hates  your  very 
name,  darling  ;  how  dared  you  come  ?  " 

He  caressed  her  soft  hair,  smiling. 

"  How  dared  I,  Betty  ?  "  he  replied,  "  ah, 
my  child,  you  do  not  know  me.  Are  you  glad 
to  see  me  even  here  ?  " 

"Am  I  glad?"  she  murmured,  tears  in  her 
eyes.  "  Ah,  Donough,  the  days  have  seemed 
like  weeks  —  the  weeks  eternities  !  " 

"  I  am  not  worthy  of  you,"  he  said,  laying 
his  cheek  against  her  soft  one,  "  I  am  not 
worthy  of  you  ;  but  above  all  else  I  love 
you  —  ay,  better  than  my  own  soul !  " 


220 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

MELISSA 

MEANWHILE,  Alice  Lynn,  with  a 
pale  face  and  watchful  eyes,  ran  down 
the  gallery  that  opened  into  Lady 
Clancarty's  private  apartments  ;  she  locked  the 
door  at  the  upper  end  and  thrust  the  key  into 
her  pocket;  she  ran  back  to  the  only  other 
entrance,  the  door  upon  the  staircase,  and  there 
she  seated  herself  upon  the  upper  step,  a  de- 
voted sentinel,  though  her  heart  beat  almost 
to  suffocation.  If  Clancarty  were  discovered 
here  —  here  in  his  wife's  rooms  !  Alice  shook 
from  head  to  foot ;  some  awful  intuition  warned 
her  that  peril  was  at  hand. 

The  gallery  was  long  and  dim ;  two  tall 
tapers  in  the  sconces  upon  the  landing  cast  a 
soft  radiance  in  a  little  space,  but  left  deep 
shadows.  The  great  house  was  strangely  still. 
Alice  sat  and  listened  to  the  beating  of  her 
own  heart  which  seemed  louder  than  the  faint 
sound  of  voices  behind  the  closed  door  at  her 

221 


My  Lady  Clancarty 

back.  So  great  was  her  love  for  Lady  Betty 
that,  like  Catharine  Douglas,  she  would  have 
thrust  her  arm  into  the  staples  and  held  the 
door  against  a  host,  but  for  all  that  she 
was  frightened.  Presently  she  started  and 
looked  down  the  stairs.  She  had  heard  a  soft 
tread  below  —  yes,  she  was  not  mistaken  ;  a 
woman  was  coming  up,  the  one  woman  whom 
she  had  thought  safely  out  of  the  house  that 
night,  the  one  she  trusted  least,  Melissa 
Thurle.  At  the  moment  Alice  hated  her,  and 
set  her  teeth  and  waited,  but  she  trembled, 
too.  As  for  Melissa,  she  came  up  softly,  a 
quiet  smile  on  her  smooth  face,  serenity  in  her 
shifting  eyes ;  soft,  stealthy,  feline  in  every 
movement.  She  pretended  to  be  startled  when 
she  stumbled  upon  Alice,  who  barred  the  stairs. 
Melissa  pressed  her  hand  to  her  heart. 

"  Why,  how  you  frightened  me  !  "  she  cried ; 
"what  is  it,  Alice?  " 

"  Nothing,"  retorted  Alice,  who  was  little 
skilled  in  subterfuge  and  only  stubbornly  deter- 
mined ;  "  I  thought  you  were  gone  to  your 
aunt's." 

"  I  started,"  replied  Melissa  sweetly,  "  but 
't  was  too  cold.  I  came  back,  and  I  have  a 
message  for  Lady  Betty  from  Lord  Sunder- 
land." 

222 


Melissa 

"She  has  a  headache,"  said  Alice;  "you 
can  leave  the  message  with  me ;  no  one  is  to 
disturb  her  ladyship  to-night  unless  she  calls 
me." 

"  Dear,  dear !  "  exclaimed  Melissa,  undis- 
turbed, however  ;  "  this  is  unusual  —  but,  un- 
happily, I  must  see  my  lady ;  Lord  Sunderland's 
orders  are  explicit.  I  dare  not  disobey." 

"I  do !  "  declared  Alice  stubbornly,  though 
she  quaked,  for  she  heard  voices  again  and  she 
knew,  by  Melissa's  face,  that  she  heard  them, 
too,  for  a  gleam  passed  over  it,  swift  as  the 
drawing  of  a  knife. 

"  You  are  of  no  consequence,"  said  the 
woman  firmly  ;  "  I  will  see  her,"  and  she  made 
a  sudden  spring  to  set  the  girl  aside. 

But  Alice  was  strong,  if  she  was  not  diplo- 
matic, and  she  caught  her  firmly  by  the  waist. 

"  You  shall  not  see  her  ! "  she  cried,  her 
face  blazing  with  honest  anger,  "  you  shall  not 
worry  her.  I  am  stronger  than  you,  and  you 
will  never  get  past  me  —  never ! "  and  she 
swung  Melissa  bodily  back  to  the  lower  step. 

At  the  moment,  while  the  two  eyed  each 
other  furiously,  both  heard  a  man's  voice 
behind  the  closed  door  of  Lady  Clancarty's 
room.  Alice  turned  white,  and  Melissa 
laughed. 

223 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

She  said  not  a  word  more.  She  laughed  and 
shrugged  her  shoulders,  and  Alice's  face 
burned  with  shame  and  anger.  "  The  hateful 
wretch,  the  insulting,  crawling  creature,"  the 
girl  thought ;  yet  she  was  relieved  to  see  her 
turn  and  walk  quietly  away.  At  the  landing, 
however,  she  stopped  and  laughed. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  she  said  sweetly, 
"  I  '11  not  interrupt  you  again,  Miss  Prude." 

And  she  went  on,  while  Alice  burned  to 
run  after  her  and  box  her  ears.  But  she  kept 
her  post,  not  daring  to  leave  the  door  un- 
guarded, and  after  awhile,  she  called  to  Lady 
Betty  and  warned  her,  but  in  vain  ;  the  lovers 
could  not  part  so  soon.  Clancarty  lingered 
—  lingered  while  the  precious  minutes  flew  and 
fate  travelled  nearer  and  yet  nearer. 

Once  out  of  Alice's  sight,  Melissa  crept, 
with  her  soft,  catlike  tread,  along  the  lower 
gallery,  felt  her  way  down  a  narrow  stair,  the 
same  by  which  Clancarty  had  ascended,  and 
looking  over  her  shoulder  occasionally  to  see 
if  the  girl  followed  her,  she  opened  another 
door  noiselessly,  crept  on  down  a  long  room 
and  through  a  hall.  About  her  was  every 
sign  of  luxury  and  magnificence,  rich  soft  rugs 
upon  the  floors,  long  mirrors,  beautiful  statuary, 
rare  bric-a-brac  from  the  India  houses,  every 

224 


Melissa 

evidence  of  culture  and  extravagance,  and  she 
crept  like  a  panther  ready  to  spring.  Her  face 
was  like  a  white  patch  in  the  dusk  of  the 
candle-light,  her  green  eyes  shone,  too,  like  a 
cat's.  On,  on  she  crept,  stealthy,  determined, 
venomous ;  a  dangerous  creature  bent  on  a 
miserable  errand.  Again,  looking  back  for 
Alice,  another  flight  of  stairs,  and  then  a  pause 
before  a  pair  of  closed  folding-doors.  She 
drew  her  breath  and  pressed  her  hand  to  her 
heart.  It  took  courage,  but  she  had  it,  of 
an  evil  sort,  the  courage  that  crawls  in  secret 
places  and  strikes  a  man  behind  the  back. 
She  opened  the  door  gently  and  stood  in  a 
sudden  flood  of  light,  looking  at  Lord  Spencer. 

He  sat  by  a  great  candelabrum,  reading 
some  pages  of  manuscript,  and  he  did  not  hear 
her.  But  having  come  so-  far,  she  would  not 
be  balked ;  she  glided  nearer  and  began  to 
purr  at  him.  The  sound  was  scarcely  human, 
but  he  looked  up  quickly  and  bent  his  eyes 
sternly  upon  her.  He  was  so  cold  a  man,  so 
pompous  and  important,  that  even  this  creep- 
ing creature  recoiled  a  little.  But  it  was  too 
late  now  ;  his  very  glance  was  a  command. 

"  I   beg  pardon,  my  lord,"  she  murmured, 
soft  as  oil,  "  but   my   love  for  the  family  — 
my  duty  drove  me  here  ! " 
'5  225 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

"  What  for  ?  "  he  demanded  coolly,  view- 
ing her  from  head  to  foot. 

She  was  a  little  frightened. 

"  My  lord,"  after  all  she  blurted  it  out 
under  those  eyes  of  his,  "  there 's  a  man  in 
your  sister's  rooms  !" 

He  sprang  from  his  chair  with  clenched  hands. 

"  You  damned  lying  cat,  you !  "  he  ex- 
claimed, between  his  teeth. 

Melissa  fell  on  her  knees. 

"  Oh,  my  lord,"  she  whined,  "  I  did  not 
mean  that !  'T  is  her  husband  —  't  is  Lord 
Clancarty  himself!" 

It  was  as  though  a  white  mask  had  fallen  on 
his  face,  his  figure  was  rigid,  his  eyes  glittered; 
rage  was  almost  choking  him. 

"  How  do  you  know,  woman  ? "  he  asked 
fiercely. 

"  I  know  him,  sir,  he  has  been  haunting 
her,"  hurried  on  Melissa,  "  at  Althorpe,  at 
Newmarket,  and  now  here.  'T  was  he  who 
fought  the  duel  in  the  meadow.  They  have 
tried  to  hide  it  from  me  but  they  could  not. 
He  is  in  her  room  now." 

Spencer  glared  at  her,  his  hands  twitching  ; 
when  he  spoke  it  was  hoarsely. 

"  How  came  he  there  ?  How  came  he  in 
this  house  ?  "  he  demanded. 

226 


Melissa 

"  Alice  Lynn  admitted  him,"  said  Melissa, 
glibly  enough  now,  her  eyes  narrow  and  pale; 
"  and  she  is  trying  to  guard  the  doors.  You 
may  see  her  for  yourself,  my  lord,"  and  she 
fastened  her  eager  gaze  upon  him. 

She  thought  to  see  him  take  his  sword  and 
go  in  search  of  his  enemy  ;  she  had  whetted 
her  appetite  for  revenge  for  her  mistress'  scorn 
of  her  with  the  thought  of  a  duel  in  Lady 
Clancarty's  rooms,  and  of  Clancarty  in  blood 
at  his  wife's  feet,  or  driven  out  into  the  night 
—  whipped !  Ah,  how  she  licked  her  lips  at 
the  thought ;  that  would  be  the  very  acme  of 
triumph,  and  the  young  countess  had  treated 
her  with  such  contempt. 

But  Lord  Spencer  disappointed  her. 

"  Send  hither  Giles,"  he  said  sharply,  and 
as  she  went  out,  reluctant  to  close  the  scene, 
she  saw  him  pick  up  his  hat  and  cloak. 

Wild  with  eagerness  and  curiosity,  she  hung 
about  the  door ;  she  heard  some  orders  to 
Giles,  the  confidential  servant,  and  she  saw 
Spencer  go  out  alone,  and  gasped  in  surprise 
and  disappointment.  Was  he  afraid? 

And  Giles  looked  askance  at  her  as  he  passed. 

"  Where  did  he  go  ?  "  she  whispered  eagerly. 

"To  the  devil,"  said  the  man  sullenly, 
"  you  're  a  pretty  bird,  you  are,"  and  he  meas- 

Z27 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

ured  her  with  rough  scorn,  even  while  he  sat 
down  by  the  main  door  with  his  pistol  on  his 
knee. 

Melissa  wetted  her  lips,  creeping  along  by 
the  wall  opposite,  watchful  and  feline. 

"  Are  you  to  catch  him  here  ?  "  she  de- 
manded, meaning  Lord  Clancarty. 

The  man  stared  at  her  again. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  "  I  'm  told  to  shoot  him, 
but  steer  clear,  my  girl,  people  don't  always 
hit  the  mark,"  and  he  grinned. 

"  I  shall  tell  Lord  Spencer !  "  she  hissed  at 
him. 

"  Do  !  't  is  your  business,"  retorted  the  man, 
"and  'twill  hang  you  sometime,  my  lady- 
bird !  " 


228 


CHAPTER   XXV 

MR.    SECRETARY    VERNON 

AT  the  door  of  Leicester  House  Lady 
Clancarty's  coach  stood  waiting  to  take 
her  to  the  ball  at  my  Lord  Bridge- 
water's,  and  she  had  quite  forgotten  both  the 
ball  —  which  was  a  grand  affair  —  and  the  coach. 
So  it  was  that  Lord  Spencer  found  it  waiting 
his  convenience  for  a  very  different  purpose. 
He  entered  it  at  once  and  directed  the  coach- 
man to  go  to  Westminster  to  the  house  of  the 
Under  Secretary  of  State,  and  away  the  great, 
rumbling,  emblazoned  coach  rolled  on  its  deadly 
errand,  not  freighted  with  the  charming  and 
vivacious  countess  but  with  a  young  nobleman, 
whose  heart  swelled  with  passion  and  another 
emotion,  which  his  lordship  mistook  for  virtue 
-the  virtue  of  the  Roman  who  slew  his 
daughter. 

As  he  rode  through  the  dark  streets  of  Lon- 
don that  night,  a  link-boy  running  at  the  horses' 
heads,  a  tumult  of  strange  feelings  struggled  in 
his  bosom.     Passion  ran  high  then,  and  party 
229 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

hatreds  led  men  to  the  dagger  and  the  sword. 
The  very  fact  that  his  father's  political  roguery 
was  a  byword  made  the  young  man  more  zeal- 
ous for  his  own  reputation.  He  burned  to  be 
a  Whig  of  the  Whigs,  a  shining  example  as  a 
party  leader,  a  distinguished  patriot,  and  now 
he  found  sedition  in  his  own  household,  a  viper 
in  his  bosom.  His  hatred  of  his  Jacobite 
brother-in-law  ran  so  entirely  in  accord  with 
his  political  creed  and  his  ideas  of  patriotism, 
that  he  mistook  it  for  a  virtuous  indignation. 
He  moved,  therefore,  with  an  air  of  righteous 
displeasure,  of  calm  dignity,  when  he  descended 
from  the  coach  at  the  secretary's  door. 

He  was  received  with  obsequious  respect  by 
the  servants  and  ushered  up  the  stairs  to  the 
private  office.  Mr.  Secretary  Vernon  had  en- 
tertained friends  at  supper  and  was  playing 
shovel-board  with  his  guests  at  the  time.  He 
came  in,  therefore,  in  a  genial  mood,  to  urge 
Lord  Spencer  to  join  them.  He  had  every 
reason  to  propitiate  the  young  Whig,  to  soothe 
and  flatter  a  man  who  had  already  gained  some 
weight  in  Parliament.  But  Lord  Spencer  cut 
short  his  civilities. 

"  I  come  on  pressing  business,  Mr.  Secre- 
tary," he  said  gravely,  with  a  dejected  air ;  "  a 
young  girl's  folly  can,  perhaps,  be  excused, 
230 


Mr.  Secretary  Vernon 

yet  't  is  hard  to  tell  you  that  my  sister  —  from 
compassion  —  has  received  a  traitor  into  my 
father's  house;"  he  paused,  looking  solemnly 
at  the  secretary. 

Vernon  pricked  up  his  ears.  The  assassi- 
nation plot  of  Barclay  and  Bernardi  and  the  little 
band  of  conspirators  which  had  thought  to  cut 
off  King  William,  was  not  yet  old  enough  to 
have  lost  its  terrors,  and  the  Blue  Posts  Tavern 
was  known  to  swarm  with  Jacobites,  made  bold 
—  as  most  Whigs  believed  —  by  William's 
lenity. 

"  Your  lordship  distresses  me,"  he  said 
politely,  as  Spencer  seemed  to  wait  for  him  ; 
"may  I  hear  more  ?  " 

"You  know  the  story,"  his  lordship  said 
regretfully,  "  the  foolish  marriage  between  my 
sister  and  the  Earl  of  Clancarty  ?  " 

Vernon  nodded,  a  sudden  change  coming 
over  his  face. 

"  Clancarty  is  in  London,"  said  Spencer, 
"and  my  sister  has  received  him.  You  can 
picture  my  despair  at  such  folly  !  Mr.  Secre- 
tary, I  must  have  a  warrant,  at  once,  and  a 
guard  to  send  the  villain  to  the  Tower." 

Secretary  Vernon  shot  a  look  at  him  that  a 
wiser  man  would    have  called   disdainful,  but 
Spencer  was  too  self-absorbed  to  see  it. 
231 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

"  I  remember  that  Clancarty  is  excepted  from 
the  king's  amnesty,"  said  the  secretary  thought- 
fully, "  he  falls  under  the  penalties  of  the  last 
Treason  Act  —  but  your  sister  —  can't  we 
manage  this  more  adroitly,  my  lord  ? " 

Lord  Spencer  looked  at  him  with  sternly 
virtuous  anger.  "  Sir,"  he  replied,  "  I  put 
my  duty  before  all  else  —  I  desire  his  imme- 
diate arrest.  Delay  may  mean  his  ultimate 
escape." 

Vernon  bowed.  "  My  lord,"  he  said,  and 
his  lip  curled  scornfully,  "  you  have  truly 
Roman  virtue.  I  will  fill  out  the  warrant  at 
once  and  place  it  at  your  disposal.  You  desire 
a  guard  from  the  Tower?"  he  added,  as  he 
went  to  his  table  and  began  to  write. 

"  I  do,  and  speedily,"  replied  the  young 
nobleman,  with  a  sort  of  savage  eagerness. 

"  Your  lordship  shall  be  accommodated," 
Vernon  said,  and  touched  the  bell  which  sum- 
moned his  clerk,  and  to  him  the  secretary  gave 
a  few  sharp  orders.  Then  he  turned  to  Lord 
Spencer. 

"  This  young  man  will  accompany  you,  my 
lord,"  he  said  blandly,  "  and  will  give  this 
warrant  into  the  hands  of  the  proper  officer, 
who  will  go  with  you  also,  taking  a  sufficient 
guard  to  effect  the  capture." 

232 


Mr.  Secretary  Vernon 

Spencer  thanked  him.  "  Your  zeal  is  com- 
mendable, Mr.  Secretary,"  he  said  proudly, 
"  't  is  an  hour  of  peril  to  the  state,  and  believe 
me,  sir,  when  I  serve  my  country  thus,  I  sac- 
rifice my  dearest  feelings  at  its  altar." 

Vernon  bowed  profoundly. 

"My  lord,"  he  responded,  "you  deserve 
the  plaudits  of  a  grateful  people.  The  mis- 
fortunes of  civil  war  and  civil  dissensions  have 
divided  many  a  house  against  itself  in  this 
kingdom." 

But  after  Spencer  left,  the  secretary  walked 
back  into  the  room  where  a  party  of  young 
men  were  playing  shovel-board,  and  he  told 
the  story  with  a  shrug. 

"  I  thought  of  offering  him  thirty  pieces 
of  silver,"  he  remarked,  "  for  his  sister's  hus- 
band." 

"  Zounds  ! "  exclaimed  one  young  gallant, 
"  my  Lady  Clancarty  will  be  a  widow  -  -  'tis  an 
ill  wind  that  blows  nobody  good." 

But  another  guest  cursed  Lord  Spencer 
as  a  cowardly  villain.  It  was  Sir  Edward 
Mackie. 

"  There  's  a  story  that  it  was  Clancarty  who 
fought  the  duel  with  Lord  Savile  at  Newmar- 
ket," said  another;  "  what  say  you  to  that, 
Mackie?" 

233 


My  Lady  Clancarty 

But  he  was  gone. 

"  Jove  ! "  exclaimed  one  of  the  secretary's 
guests,  "  I  '11  wager  ten  pounds  he  's  gone  to 
warn  them ! " 

And  Vernon  only  smiled. 


234 


CHAPTER   XXVI 

THE    ARREST 

IN  spite  of  Alice's  warning,  in  spite  of  the 
deadly  peril  that  surrounded  him,  Clan- 
carty  lingered  at  his  wife's  side.  It  was 
hard  to  say  farewell,  hard  to  leave  her,  and 
though  her  heart  was  filled  with  misgivings  and 
anxieties,  Lady  Betty  could  not  urge  him  to 
go  ;  indeed,  she  clung  to  him,  weeping  at  the 
thought  of  a  parting  that  involved  such  perils 
and  hardships  for  him  and  such  sorrow  for  her. 
Moreover,  there  was  much  to  talk  of  and  to 
plan.  They  did  not  mean  to  be  separated 
long  ;  she  was  to  go  with  him  to  the  Conti- 
nent or  to  Ireland,  and  there  were  a  thousand 
details  to  arrange,  a  thousand  hopes  and  fears 
to  strengthen  or  allay  —  and  they  were  lovers, 
and  when  did  lovers  ever  learn  to  watch  the 
tedious  hand  of  time  ? 

The    ball    at   Lord    Bridgewater's   was  for- 
gotten, Spencer  was  forgotten,  all  the  world,  in 
fact,  while  Betty  —  lovely  with  happiness,  glow- 
235 


My  Lady  C  lane  arty 

ing  and  smiling  in  her  splendid  gown  —  thought 
of  no  one  but  her  husband,  and  desired  no 
admiration  but  his. 

"  Ah,  my  darling,"  he  whispered,  looking 
down  at  her  as  her  face  lay  against  his  breast, 
"  can  you  give  up  all  this  ? "  he  touched  her 
lace  and  jewels,  "  and  this  ? "  he  pointed  at 
the  luxurious  room,  "  and  all  you  have  and 
are  —  to  follow  a  poor  exile  into  poverty  and 
obscurity  ? " 

She  smiled  divinely. 

"  To  follow  my  beloved  even  to  the  ends  of 
the  earth,"  she  said,  "  f  for  better  or  for  worse, 
for  richer  or  for  poorer,  until  death  do  us 
part,' "  she  murmured  tenderly. 

"  Amen  !  "  he  said,  and  laid  his  face  against 
her  soft  hair,  moved  —  how  deeply  she  could 
not  know  ;  her  utter  trust,  her  fondness  touched 
him  to  the  heart.  This  splendid  woman,  with 
every  gift  of  nature  and  of  fortune,  willing  to 
renounce  all  for  him  —  he  held  her  close  and 
his  eyes  dimmed. 

"  Ah,"  he  said,  "  't  is  worth  living,  dear 
heart,  for  your  sake  !  When  I  thought  you 
scorned  my  poverty  and  would  rather  be  the 
wife  of  Savile  than  mine,  I  cared  not  if  I  died 
—  but  now!  Ah,  Betty,  you  could  make  a 
dungeon  paradise." 

236 


The  Arrest 

"  Nay,"  she  replied,  "it  shall  not  be  a  dun- 
geon, but  a  home,  my  husband,  somewhere  — 
even  where  these  quarrelling  kings  cannot  dis- 
turb our  paradise.  Faith,  my  politics  grow 
strangely  mixed,"  she  added,  with  a  smile. 

"  Love  knows  no  politics,"  he  answered, 
smiling  too,  "  you  and  I  shall  not  quarrel  over 
our  principles,  sweetheart." 

As  he  spoke,  the  door  was  thrown  open  and 
Alice  ran  into  the  room  with  a  ghastly  face. 

"Oh,  my  lady,"  she  cried,  "there's  something 
wrong  —  I  hear  strange  voices  below,  there  are 
men  upon  the  stairs  !  My  lord  must  hide." 

Betty  sprang  to  her  feet. 

"  Quick  !  "  she  cried,  "  Donough,  there  is  the 
other  door ! 

"  'T  is  useless,"  cried  Alice  ;  "  they  come 
from  both  sides  —  I  saw  them  !  " 

"  Then  I  will  hide  you  !  "  Betty  cried  wildly, 
catching  her  husband's  arm. 

For  an  instant  he  hesitated ;  he,  too,  heard 
the  heavy  feet  in  the  gallery,  then  he  shook 
his  head. 

"  No,  Betty,  dear,"  he  said,  "  I  cannot  be 
hunted  like  a  rat  in  a  hole ;  I  must  face  them 
like  a  man,  like  your  husband." 

She  uttered  a  little  cry  of  despair  and  clung 
to  him,  while  Alice  wrung  her  hands. 
237 


My  Lady  C  lane  arty 

"  Oh,  the  window,  my  lord ! "  she  cried, 
f c  there  is  a  balcony  !  " 

"  Too  late,  my  girl,"  Lord  Clancarty  replied 
calmly,  the  light  flashing  in  his  gray  eyes,  his 
head  erect ;  "  no,  no,  I  Ve  never  let  an  enemy 
see  my  back  —  I  can't  learn  to  run  now." 

Betty  looked  up  at  him  and  caught  her 
breath  ;  here  was  a  man  after  her  own  heart. 
She  felt  his  hand  go  to  his  sword  and  she,  too, 
looked  toward  the  door.  They  had  not  even 
thought  of  barring  it,  but  it  would  have  been 
useless,  for  it  was  thrown  wide  open  by  a 
sheriff's  deputy,  who  was  followed  by  a  guard 
of  stout  yeomen  from  the  Tower. 

"  Is  Donough  Macarthy,  Earl  of  Clancarty, 
here  ? "  demanded  the  sheriff,  fixing  his  eyes 
on  the  earl  as  he  stood  there,  with  his  wife 
clinging  to  him. 

"  I  am  Clancarty,"  he  replied  proudly.  Re- 
sistance would  have  been  worse  than  useless, 
and  he  only  pressed  his  dear  Betty  closer  to 
his  heart ;  he  knew  that  separation  was  in- 
evitable. 

"  I  have  a  warrant  to  seize  the  body  of  the 
Earl  of  Clancarty  and  carry  him  to  the  Tower, 
on  the  charge  of  high  treason,"  said  the  officer, 
producing  the  parchment  and  reading  the  war- 
rant aloud  in  the  king's  name. 

238 


The  Arrest 

"  I  do  not  acknowledge  the  authority  of  the 
Prince  of  Orange,"  said  Clancarty  calmly,  "  but 
I  must  submit  to  superior  numbers,"  he 
added,  with  a  scornful  glance  at  the  six  stout 
yeomen  who  had  filed  into  the  room  and  stood 
gaping  at  Lady  Clancarty.  "  You  have  ar- 
rested me  in  the  apartments  of  my  wife.  I 
came  to  London  solely  to  see  the  Countess  of 
Clancarty,  but  I  will  go  with  you  without 
further  protest." 

The  officer  bowed  to  Lady  Clancarty. 

"  I  am  reluctant  to  part  you,  my  lord,"  he 
said  grimly,  "  but  we  have  no  time  to  lose  ;  my 
orders  are  explicit." 

"  You  might  find  a  better  office,  sir,"  said 
Lady  Betty,  withering  him  with  a  look,  and 
then  breaking  down  when  her  husband  kissed 
her  farewell. 

"  Have  comfort,  dear  heart,"  he  whispered, 
though  he  knew  the  case  was  desperate  ;  "  bear 
up  for  my  sake  —  now  !  " 

But  she  clung  to  him  in  a  passion  of  grief, 
begging  to  go  with  him  to  the  Tower  until  it 
wrung  his  heart  anew  to  leave  her.  Even  the 
soldiers  glanced  away  in  grim  silence,  and  she 
was  half  unconscious  when  Clancarty  unclasped 
her  hands  from  his  neck  and  laid  her  in  Alice's 
arms. 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

"  Care  for  her,  Alice,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  of 
deep  but  restrained  emotion,  "guard  her 
tenderly,  do  not  leave  her  in  this  hour  of  trial 
—  for  they  will  tear  me  from  her!  My  poor 
darling  —  my  poor  wife!" 

He  lingered  to  kiss4her  again,  to  push  the 
soft  hair  back  from  her  forehead,  and  it  was 
only  a  final  order  from  the  sheriff  that  took 
him  from  her  side. 

The  guards  had  escorted  him  out  at  last,  or 
rather  he  had  walked  out  proudly  with  them, 
though  his  heart  was  aching  for  her.  They 
were  already  at  the  lower  door  when  Lady 
Clancarty,  recovering  consciousness,  sprang  up 
to  come  face  to  face  with  Spencer.  Then  the 
truth  flashed  upon  her  and  she  stood  before 
him  with  a  terrible  face. 

"  You  —  you     betrayed  him  !  "     she    cried, 

"  you    sent    those    men    here    to    drag    him 

i  " 
away  ! 

Lord  Spencer  took  it  as  a  compliment. 

"I  did,"  he  said  piously;  "I  delivered  the 
traitor  to  his  fate ;  I  would  do  it  were  he  my 
own  flesh  and  blood.  No  sacrifice  is  too  great 
for  truth  and  justice." 

"  You  hypocrite  !  "  cried  Lady  Betty  pas- 
sionately ;  "  you  have  broken  your  sister's 
heart  for  the  sake  of  your  pride  —  your 

240 


The  Arrest 

politics  !  You  have  murdered  my  husband  — 
my  husband ! "  she  wrung  her  hands  in 
agony. 

"  I  have  done  my  duty,"  he  replied  coldly. 

"Your  duty?"  she  cried  bitterly;  "was  it 
then  your  duty  to  betray  your  sister's  husband  ? 
To  force  an  officer  and  his  guard  into  your 
sister's  rooms  —  to  trample  on  her  tenderest 
feelings  —  to  mortify  and  crush  her?  Duty!" 
she  repeated  scornfully,  "  then  may  no  man 
henceforth  do  his  duty  !  Such  virtue  is  more 
vile  than  vice  —  such  courage  worse  than  cow- 
ardice! How  dare  you  face  me  or  look  at 
me  ?  An  injured  woman !  I  mark  your  white 
face,  sir,  and  I  marvel  at  its  pallor  ;  it  should 
burn  with  shame." 

Spencer  ground  his  teeth  in  anger.  "You 
saucy  minx,"  he  said,  "  how  dared  you  have 
that  man  here  ?  " 

"  How  dared  I  ?  "  she  repeated,  "  how  dared 
I  have  my  husband  with  me  ?  Whom  should 
I  have  with  me  if  not  my  husband  ?  " 

She  paused  for  breath  ;  her  bosom  rose  and 
fell,  she  put  her  hands  to  her  throat  as  if  she 
choked.  It  was  a  moment  before  she  could 
speak. 

"  What  have  you  done  ?  "  she  went  on  pas- 
sionately, her  slender  figure  towering,  her  eyes 

16  241 


My  Lady  Clancarty 

on  fire;  "you  have  torn  him  from  my  arms, 
you  have  sent  him  to  his  death,  but  you 
cannot  tear  him  from  my  heart !  While  that 
beats,  while  the  blood  runs  through  these 
veins,  I  will  love  him  —  love  him  !  And  he 
is  my  husband  —  my  husband,  do  you  hear, 
you  coward  ?  I  bear  his  name,  I  am  his,  his 
flesh  and  blood,  his  very  own  —  you  cannot 
separate  us  !  Even  if  you  kill  him,  our  souls 
are  one  ;  you  cannot  part  them  any  more  than 
you  can  rend  the  sky  asunder  !  I  am  not  your 
sister  —  I  am  Clancarty's  wife." 

"  Shame  on  you,  madam,"  said  Spencer 
bitterly,  his  face  like  ashes,  gray  and  white ; 
"  shame  on  you  to  declare  yourself  so  passion- 
ately enamoured  of  a  Jacobite  —  a  reprobate  — 
a " 

"  Of  my  husband,"  she  said,  and  her  low 
voice  cut  like  a  lash. 

"  Your  husband,"  he  mocked  ;  "  are  you  sure 
that  he  is  your  lawful  husband  ?  A  sneaking 
rogue  who  crept  to  your  room  by  a  back-stair 
—  who  would  not  face  your  family  like  a  man 
of  honor ! " 

"  What  insult  more  have  you  for  me  ?  "  she 
cried  ;  "  't  is  you  who  dared  not  face  him  ;  you 
crept  behind  him  like  a  coward,  you  —  you 
Judas ! " 

242 


The  Arrest 

She  caught  her  breath,  her  hands  at  her 
throat  again. 

"  Sit  down,  madam,"  said  his  lordship  coldly  ; 
"  your  fury  suffocates  you.  It  will  not  avail," 
he  laughed,  "  to  set  the  rogue  free  ! " 

She  looked  at  him  strangely. 

"  Are  you  human  ? "  she  asked,  "  are  you 
like  other  men  ?  —  or  some  monster,  some 
abortive  creature,  cast  upon  the  earth  to  wreck, 
the  lives  of  others  ?  How  could  any  woman 
marry  you  ?  I  think  you  are  not  human  — 
though  we  are  of  the  same  mother ! " 

Spencer  laughed  bitterly. 

"  Quite  human,  Elizabeth,"  he  said  sneering, 
"  as  human  as  my  termagant  sister  —  as  the 
rogue  they  are  carrying  now  to  the  Tower, 
where,  I  trust,  he  '11  rest  well  —  and  safe." 

She  recoiled  half  way  across  the  room  and 
stared  at  him  wildly,  as  if  her  very  senses  were 
bewildered. 

"  To  the  Tower  ?  "  she  repeated,  like  a  child 
who  had  a  lesson  by  rote,  "  the  great  gloomy 
Tower  yonder  ?  " 

"  Would  you  have  preferred  Newgate  ?  "  my 
lord  asked  maliciously,  beginning  to  find  some 
joy  in  a  situation  that  had  not  been  without 
humiliation. 

"  They  carry  my  husband  to  the  Tower ! " 
243 


My  Lady  Clancarty 

Lady  Betty  cried  wildly,  clasping  her  hands  to 
her  bosom  as  if  to  still  the  tumult  there,  "  and 
I  stand  here  talking  to  the  Judas  who  betrayed 
him  !  Go  hang  yourself,  my  lord,  —  surely 
you  cannot  want  to  live,"  she  went  on, 
mad  with  her  despair  ;  "  let  me  see  your  face 
no  more.  The  very  air  you  breathe  poisons 
me.  Never,  never  shall  the  same  roof  shelter 
us  again !  I  go,  sir,  your  sister  no  longer, 
but  the  beggar's  wife.  I  go  to  share  his  fate, 
to  starve  with  him,  to  die  for  him  or  with  him  ! 
But  to  see  you  no  more  forever  and  forever  !  " 

She  rushed  past  him,  sweeping  her  skirts 
aside  that  they  might  not  so  much  as  touch 
him,  and  ran  wildly  out  of  the  room. 

Fleeing  through  the  long  galleries  and  down 
the  stairs,  in  her  splendid  dress,  and  heedless 
of  the  gaping  servants  and  of  the  bitter  cold 
she  went  out,  bareheaded,  into  the  night. 


244 


CHAPTER   XXVII 

THE  TRAITOR'S  GATE 

POOR  Lady   Betty,  half  distracted,  fled 
from   the   house  into   Leicester  Fields, 
trying  to  find  the  party  that  had  pre- 
ceded   her  with    her    husband   as   a  prisoner. 
The  darkness  and    the    peril  of  the  London 
streets    at   that  late  hour  did    not   enter    her 
thoughts.     Bareheaded    and   without   a    cloak 
to  shield  her  from  the  cold  night  air,  she  ran 
around  the  square. 

She  saw  lights  in  the  adjacent  houses,  she 
heard  voices  in  the  distance,  but  she  only 
looked  for  one —  her  husband.  She  took  no 
thought  of  the  madness  of  her  project ;  she 
sped  on  and  on,  and  might  have  come  into 
some  great  peril  had  she  not  fallen  almost  into 
the  arms  of  a  man  who  was  running  toward 
Lord  Sunderland's  mansion.  They  came  upon 
each  other  in  the  darkness  ;  in  her  grief  and 
nervousness  she  uttered  a  little  cry,  and  he 
knew  her  voice. 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

"Lady  Clancarty!"  he  exclaimed,  stopping 
short. 

It  was  young  Mackie. 

At  first  she  did  not  recognize  him,  but  when 
she  did,  she  caught  his  arm  with  a  frantic 
appeal.  The  light  from  a  dim  lantern  over- 
head shone  on  her  white  face. 

"  My  husband  !  "  she  cried,  "  my  Lord 
Clancarty.  They  have  dragged  him  away  to 
prison.  My  —  nay,  I  will  not  call  him  my 
brother  —  that  man  yonder,  Charles  Spencer, 
betrayed  him  —  betrayed  my  husband,  and  they 
came  into  my  very  rooms  to  arrest  him  —  to 
tear  us  apart,  and  he  has  gone,"  she  added 
wildly,  "  gone  to  the  Tower." 

"  I  know,"  he  replied,  deeply  moved,  "  I 
know.  I  was  at  Vernon's  house  and  heard 
it  after  your  —  after  Lord  Spencer  got  the 
warrant.  I  came  to  warn  you  but,  alas,  I  am 
too  late." 

"  Yes,  too  late ! "  cried  Betty,  a  little  wildly, 
"too  late;  but  I  am  going  to  the  Tower  — 
I  am  going  to  my  husband  ! " 

They  had  walked  on  a  little  way  as  they 
talked,  and  were  so  near  Aylesbury  House 
that  the  lights  from  within  fell  on  her.  He 
saw  her  uncovered  head  and  dazzling  gown. 

"  Lady  Clancarty,"  he  said  persuasively,  "  let 
246 


The  Traitor  s  Gate 

us  go  back  for  your  cloak  and  mask.     You 
can't  go  down  the  river  to  the  Tower  thus  — 
in  the  cold  !  " 

"I  care  not  for  it,"  she  replied;  "go  back? " 
she  shuddered,  "  I  could  not —  I  cannot  breathe 
the  same  air  with  Spencer,  it  poisons  me ! " 

Without  another  word  young  Mackie  took 
off  his  own  cloak  and  wrapped  it  around  her, 
and  she,  in  her  excitement,  took  no  thought  of 
his  exposure  to  the  cold  in  his  thin  suit  of 
velvet  and  satin. 

"I  must  go!"  she  reiterated,  "the  very 
shortest  way  —  I  must  go  to  my  husband ! " 
and  her  voice  broke  pitifully. 

"  You  shall  go,  dear  Lady  Clancarty,"  he 
said  gently,  setting  himself  to  face  the  task, 
though  a  sharp  pain  rankled  in  his  own  bosom, 
and  when  he  drew  her  hand  through  his  arm 
he  set  his  teeth. 

He  loved  her,  too,  and  she  took  no  more 
thought  of  him  than  of  a  stone — such  is  the 
way  of  women. 

The  night  wind  cut  their  faces  as  they  walked 
toward  the  river.  She  was  so  used  to  service 
from  men,  to  their  devotion,  that  she  took  his 
for  granted;  she  did  not  even  try  to  talk  to 
him,  but  he  heard  her  weeping  softly  and  the 
pitiful  little  sound  made  him  shiver.  He 
247 


My  Lady  Clancarty 

longed  to  comfort  her,  but  he  set  his  teeth 
harder  —  he  knew  she  wept  for  Lord  Clancarty. 

When  they  reached  the  water  stairs  she  was 
resolute  again  and  alert.  She  walked  unas- 
sisted down  the  steps  and  urged  him  to  take 
any  boat  for  the  Tower,  impatient  of  the 
wrangling  of  the  boatmen.  She  stamped  her 
foot  at  them,  in  fact,  and  took  so  high  a  tone 
that,  at  last,  the  blackguards  subsided  and  took 
them  meekly  enough,  though  the  order,  "the 
Traitor's  Gate,"  caused  some  murmurs. 

Once  on  the  water  she  sat  erect  and  silent, 
straining  eyes  and  ears  for  the  king's  boat, 
which  had,  of  course,  preceded  hers,  with  her 
husband  aboard.  She  hoped  to  be  close  enough 
behind  to  gain  admission  with  him ;  she  had 
no  other  hope,  no  other  prayer  but  to  share 
his  fate,  however  wretched,  to  follow  him  to 
prison  and  to  death.  Her  impulsive  nature 
stirred  at  last  to  its  depths  swept  her  on.  She 
could  be  as  heroic  now  and  as  resolute  as  she 
had  been  careless  and  happy  in  the  summer 
time  of  her  life.  She  was  imperial  woman  to 
her  finger  tips;  she  loved  and  hated  with  the 
full,  fierce  tide  of  her  rich  nature.  She  gave  all 
and  kept  nothing  back. 

Young  Mackie  looking  at  the  dark  outline 
of  her  figure  against  the  gray  river,  felt  all  this 

248 


The  Traitor  s~  Gate 

keenly  and  admired  her  the  more.  She  was 
a  woman  to  die  for,  he  thought,  and  turned  his 
boyish  face  away,  for  he  dared  not  look  at  her 
—  it  tried  him  too  far. 

Something  in  her  mood  seemed  to  cast  a 
spell  upon  the  boatmen  ;  the  wherry  swept  on 
in  silence,  save  for  the  sound  of  the  oars  and 
the  ripple  of  water  under  its  bow.  The  lights 
of  the  city,  feeble  lanterns  swung  across  the 
narrow,  reeking  streets,  gleamed  dimly;  the 
river  was  as  still  as  death. 

At  last  the  frowning  bastions  of  the  Tower 
— that  inexorable  fortress,  dark  with  secrets, 
grim  as  Fate,  —  cast  their  black  shadow  over 
them.  And  then,  —  Betty's  heart  stood  still  — 
the  boat  turned  and  began  to  creep  under  the 
vaulted  arch  at  the  Traitor's  Gate.  The  faint 
gleaming  of  night  upon  the  waters  narrowed 
behind  them  and  was  swallowed  up  in  dark- 
ness, while  before,  the  red  lights  at  the  gate 
began  to  shine.  The  boat  jarred  on  the  steps. 
She  looked  up  and  saw  the  closed  wicket  and 
the  guard  of  yeomen  looking  down,  and 
suddenly  despair  seized  upon  her  and  she 
trembled  so  that  Mackie  had  almost  to  lift  her 
from  the  boat. 

Then  arose  the  question  of  admittance.  She 
wished  to  see  the  warden;  but  Sir  Edward 
249 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

knew  this  was  no  easy  matter  and  resorted  to 
a  stratagem. 

"  We  come  from  Mr.  Secretary  Vernon," 
he  said  boldly,  with  an  air  of  authority. 

The  sergeant  at  the  gate  hesitated,  and  asked 
for  a  permit. 

"  The  matter  is  pressing,"  Mackie  said 
firmly  ;  "we  must  be  admitted." 

The  sergeant  shook  his  head,  looking  gravely 
out  upon  them.  A  yeoman  lifted  his  torch 
and  the  light  streamed  on  Lady  Betty's  beauti- 
ful face. 

"  I  cannot  admit  you  at  this  hour,"  the  old 
soldier  replied  firmly  but  not  unkindly  ;  "  my 
orders  are  explicit." 

Betty's  face  changed  and  seemed  to  shrink 
into  childish  proportions ;  she  held  out  her 
hands  pitifully. 

"  I  beg  you,"  she  said,  her  voice  quivering, 
"  I  am  Lady  Clancarty,  the  wife  of  the  earl 
who  has  just  been  arrested.  Is  he  here  ?  I 
pray  you  tell  me  ?  " 

The  two  men  at  the  wicket  exchanged  sig- 
nificant glances,  and  the  elder  looked  down  at 
her  again  in  open  pity. 

"  He  was  committed  about  twenty  minutes 
ago,  madam,"  he  replied  kindly. 

"  Twenty  minutes  ?  O  Sir  Edward,  twenty 
250 


The  Traitor  s  Gate 

minutes  ago,  and  I  might  have  seen  him  ! " 
and  she  wept  bitterly. 

She  drew  a  ring  from  her  finger,  a  costly 
jewel,  and  pressed  it  upon  the  soldier. 

"  I  pray  you  let  me  enter  too  !  "  she  cried, 
"  I  would  only  share  his  prison.  See,  I  have  no 
weapons  —  nothing  !  I  cannot  set  him  free  — 
I  only  want  to  share  his  fate !  " 

The  sergeant  waved  aside  her  jewel. 

"  Nay,"  he  said  firmly,  "  bribes  I  may  not 
take.  Truly,  madam,  if  I  could  let  you  see 
your  husband  I  would  do  it,  but  I  dare  not." 

Mackie  urged  him  then,  using  the  name  of 
the  Duke  of  Devonshire,  though  he  had  felt 
from  the  first  that  without  a  permit  she  could 
never  be  admitted.  Lady  Clancarty  would  not 
give  way  so  readily ;  she  struggled  with  her 
grief  and  commanded  her  voice  again,  going 
closer  to  the  wicket  and  laying  her  hands  upon 
it  —  that  famous  wicket  which  had  closed  be- 
hind so  many  prisoners ;  on  Anne  Boleyn  and 
Lady  Jane  Grey,  on  Sir  Thomas  More  and 
Cranmer  and  on  the  Duke  of  Norfolk ;  the 
wicket  stained  with  a  long  history  of  terror  and 
despair  —  was  clasped  now  by  Lady  Betty's 
slender  fingers,  and  she  prayed  for  admittance 
—  a  new  prayer,  indeed,  at  the  Traitor's  Gate. 

"  You  will  let  me  in,"  she  said  ;  "  I  must 
251 


My  Lady  Clancarty 

speak  with  the  captain  of  the  guard  !  I  am  the 
daughter  of  the  Earl  of  Sunderland.  I  demand 
this  much  —  to  see  the  captain  of  the  guard." 

At  this  the  man  gave  way  a  little ;  he  sent 
a  yeoman  for  the  captain  of  the  watch,  but  he 
kept  the  wicket  closed  and  stood  grim  and 
silent,  looking  out  upon  them.  The  torch- 
light flared  up  and  down,  the  water  rippled  be- 
low them  on  the  stone  steps  —  it  seemed  like 
the  tongue  of  a  hungry  wolf  lapping  blood  — 
and  there  was  silence. 

At  last  came  the  echo  of  heavy  feet  upon 
the  stone  floor,  the  rattle  of  arms,  and  the  tall, 
gray-headed  captain  came  to  the  wicket  and 
looked  out,  inexorable  as  fate,  though  his  eyes 
changed  a  little  at  the  sight  of  Lady  Clancarty, 
common  as  a  woman's  grief  was  there.  He 
listened  to  Mackie's  explanation,  gravely  re- 
spectful but  unrelenting. 

"  I  ask  only  to  see  him  —  to  share  his  fate," 
Betty  said,  as  Sir  Edward  concluded,  "  't  is  so 
little  !  " 

But  the  officer  shook  his  head. 

"  Nay,  madam,"  he  replied  kindly,  "  not 
without  the  king's  orders." 

"  At  least  permit  her  to  see  her  husband,  to 
speak  with  him,"  urged  Sir  Edward. 

"  'T  is  a  small  thing  to  grant  me,"  cried 
252 


The  Traitor  s  Gate     * 

Betty,  "  I  pray  you,  sir,  think  of  your  own 
wife  in  a  like  case,  and  show  compassion  on  the 
unfortunate ! " 

"  Nay,  madam,  I  need  no  urging,"  said  the 
captain,  "if  it  were  in  my  power — but  it  is 
not;  since  the  last  assassination  plot  we  have 
been  strictly  enjoined  to  guard  our  prisoners 
of  state  and  hedge  them  in  with  every  precau- 
tion. Your  case  is  in  higher  hands  than  mine. 
Surely,  Lady  Clancarty,  you  can  obtain  influ- 
ence enough  to  grant  your  wish,  —  your  father, 
Secretary  Vernon." 

"  My  father,"  Lady  Clancarty  repeated  bit- 
terly, as  she  stood  thinking,  her  white  face 
downcast. 

The  two  men  exchanged  significant  glances; 
neither  of  them  had  hope.  Clancarty  was 
scarcely  an  object  for  the  king's  clemency ;  he 
was  a  notorious  Jacobite,  a  man  of  daring, 
whose  personal  prominence  as  an  Irish  earl,  no 
less  than  his  political  affiliations,  marked  him 
out  for  probable  example. 

Happily,  she  did  not  see  their  looks,  she 
stood  leaning  against  the  wicket,  her  head  bent. 
She  looked  up  and  began  to  plead  again  to  see 
her  husband. 

"  You  may  put  me  behind  bolts  and  bars," 
she  said  passionately,  "  I  care  not ;  indeed,  I 
253 


My  Lady  Clancarty 

pray  to  be  a  prisoner  too,  since  he  is  one.  Ah, 
it  is  so  little  that  I  ask.  What  could  I  do  ? 
I  could  not  break  his  chains  —  I  could  not  set 
him  free !  I  only  pray  —  pray  you,"  she 
stretched  out  her  hands  in  fervent  supplication, 
"  to  let  me  share  his  prison  !  I  cannot  be  free 
while  he  is  here  —  I  will  not  be  free  !  " 

The  old  soldier  shook  his  head,  he  was 
deeply  touched. 

"  I  cannot,  madam,"  he  replied ;  "  but  let 
me  beg  you  to  carry  this  petition  to  one  who 
can  and  will  surely  hear  you." 

"  You  mean  the  king  ? "  said  Mackie. 

The  officer  inclined  his  head.  "  I  know  of 
no  one  in  these  three  kingdoms  so  merciful," 
he  replied  quietly. 

"  'T  is  a  wise  thought,"  said  Sir  Edward 
gently,  as  if  he  spoke  to  a  child  ;  "  come,  Lady 
Clancarty,  let  us  carry  our  petition  to  his 
majesty." 

For  the  moment  she  had  completely  broken 
down.  She  wept  and  her  sobs  shook  her  from 
head  to  foot. 

"  I  cannot  leave  him  here,"  she  cried ;  "  how 
dare  you  ask  me  ?  " 

Young  Mackie  bowed  his  head  ;  he,  too, 
was  shaken  by  her  emotion. 

"  I  only  beg  of  you  to  appeal  to  one  who 
254 


The  Traitor  s  Gate 

has  the  power  to  grant  your  petition,"  he  said, 
very  low. 

It  was  a  little  while  yet  before  she  conquered 
herself  and  looked  up  through  her  tears  at 
them  both. 

"  I  believe  you  mean  kindly  to  me,"  she 
said,  with  a  humility  strangely  touching  in  one 
of  her  high  spirit ;  "  I  will  go  to  my  father, 
Sir  Edward,  he  may  hear  me  —  but  I  have 
little  hope  —  so  little  hope  ! "  and  she  fell  to 
weeping  again. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII 

ALICE    AND    DENIS 

WHEN  Lady  Clancarty  fled  wildly 
from  her  father's  house,  poor  Alice 
was  too  much  overwhelmed  with  the 
agony  of  the  recent  scene  to  know  what  to  do. 
For  the  moment  she  gave  way  only  to  her 
grief,  fleeing  from  Spencer  and  from  the  woman, 
Melissa,  as  she  would  have  fled  from  pestilence. 
But  she  was  too  sensible  and  too  faithful  to 
remain  long  without  making  an  effort  to  follow 
her  mistress.  In  less  than  an  hour,  therefore, 
she  had  gathered  up  a  heavy  cloak  and  hood 
of  Lady  Betty's,  and  assuming  her  own  mantle, 
went  out  into  the  night.  It  took  no  small 
courage  to  do  this,  when  the  streets  of  London 
were  beset  by  rogues  of  every  class  and  descrip- 
tion, and  the  dim  streaks  of  light  from  an  oc- 
casional lantern  swung  in  some  archway  served 
only  to  make  the  darkness  visible.  Alice, 
who  was  urged  on  by  no  frenzy  like  Lady 
Clancarty's,  went  out  with  a  sinking  heart,  her 
sharp  sense  of  duty  alone  keeping  her  to  her 
purpose.  She  had  not  dared  to  ask  even  a 
256 


Alice  and  Denis 

lackey  from  the  house  to  attend  her ;  these 
town  servants  were  strangers  to  her,  and  every- 
where she  looked  for  treachery.  Poor  Alice 
wrapped  her  cloak  around  her  and  set  out 
alone  upon  a  devious  course  of  wanderings, 
through  every  lane  and  byway  in  the  vicinity, 
in  a  fruitless  quest  for  her  dear  lady.  Some- 
times the  girl  proceeded  quietly  through  a 
deserted  street;  again  she  shrank  into  the 
shelter  of  a  friendly  doorway  at  the  sound  of 
high  voices  and  drunken  laughter ;  and  again 
—  and  more  than  once — she  dodged  some 
ruffian  who  would  have  pounced  upon  her, 
and  fled,  saved  by  swift  running,  for  she  was 
fleet  as  any  deer.  The  terrors  of  the  night 
grew  upon  her  until  her  knees  shook  under 
her.  She  could  not  imagine  what  evil  had 
befallen  her  lovely  and  unhappy  mistress  and 
more  than  once  she  stopped,  blinded  by  tears. 
Just  as  her  despair  reached  a  climax,  she 
came  in  sight  of  the  Standard  Tavern  and 
glanced  at  it  timidly ;  even  at  that  hour  it  was 
well  lighted  and  full  of  company.  As  she 
watched,  a  figure  came  out  of  the  door  and 
stood  by  the  lantern  under  the  sign  —  a  short, 
sturdy  figure  and  a  homely  Irish  face.  She 
recognized  Denis,  and  Denis  was  Lord  Clan- 
carty's  faithful  servant.  She  did  not  know 
'7  257 


My  Lady  C  lane  arty 

that  he  had  only  just  discovered  the  arrest  of 
his  master  in  Sunderland's  house  and  had  put 
his  own  interpretation  upon  it.  She  rushed 
blindly — as  we  do — upon  fate. 

"  O  Mr.  Denis  ! "  she  cried,  revealing  her 
white  face  under  her  hood,  "  have  you  seen  my 
mistress  ?  my  dear  Lady  Clancarty  ? " 

Denis  wheeled  and  eyed  her  with  an  expres- 
sion that  she  did  not  understand. 

"  Begorra  ! "  he  ejaculated,  beneath  his  breath, 
and  swept  down  upon  her  like  an  avalanche. 

"  I  know  ye,  me  darlint,"  he  said,  and  there 
was  something  in  his  tone  that  sent  a  shiver 
through  Alice,  "  ye  '11  walk  a  stip  with  me  an' 
tell  me  thrue  all  ye  know  of  this,  ivery  wurd  ! 
Come  on,  mavourneen,  'tis  fer  me  ear  alone." 

"  I  can't  go  with  you,"  Alice  said,  trying  to 
pull  away  from  him,  but  his  grip  was  a  vise ; 
"  my  poor  lady  is  out  here  in  the  night —  I  must 
find  her." 

"A  curse  upon  her!"  said  Denis  fiercely, 
"  a  curse  upon  her  smilin',  desateful  face  ;  may 
she  dhry  up  an'  wither  away  loike  a  did  leaf — 
an'  may  —  " 

Alice  cried  out  a  little. 

"  Let  me  go  !"  she  said,  "  you  bloody  Irish- 
man, let  me  go.  I  thought  you  were  a  faithful 
servant  to  Lord  Clancarty." 

258 


Alice  and  Denis 

"  I  '11  not  let  ye  go,"  retorted  Denis  savagely, 
dragging  her  along,  "  I  '11  not  let  ye  go  until  I 
make  yer  teeth  rattle  !  " 

Alice  screamed  aloud  in  an  agony  of  fright ; 
but  of  what  avail  was  it  ?  A  woman's  scream 
in  the  black  mouth  of  a  London  lane  at  mid- 
night ;  it  was  only  a  drop  upon  the  surface  of 
a  black  pool. 

"  Scrame  away,  ye  little  threacherous,  spiteful 
cat,  ye ! "  said  Denis,  shaking  her  fiercely ; 
"  ye  'd  bethray  me  masther,  would  ye  ?  Be- 
gorra,  I  'd  loike  ter  kill  ye  intirely  !  Take 
that,  ye  hizzy  !  "  and  he  gave  her  a  sound  blow 
that  made  the  poor  girl  reel. 

Alice  was  no  weakling  and  she  put  out  all 
her  strength  and  fought  him,  screaming. 

"  Oh,  ye  cat,  ye  !  "  he  said  harshly,  shaking 
her  again  ;  "  take  that  —  an'  that,  ye  lyin',  de- 
sateful  hizzy  !  I  '11  teach  ye,"  and  he  shook  her 
much  as  a  big  dog  shakes  a  kitten. 

Alice  screamed ;  if  she  even  dimly  con- 
ceived his  error,  she  had  no  breath  to  argue 
with  him ;  she  believed,  indeed,  that  her  last 
hour  had  come,  and  shrieked  with  all  her 
strength.  And  Denis  shook  her,  and  would 
have  gone  on  shaking  her  indefinitely  but  for 
a  timely  interruption. 


259 


CHAPTER   XXIX 

FATHER    AND    DAUGHTER 

WHEN  Lady  Clancarty  ascended  the 
water  stairs  on  her  return  from  the 
Tower  she  was  outwardly  calm, 
the  floodtide  of  her  emotion  having  spent  it- 
self in  the  outburst  at  the  Traitor's  Gate. 
Young  Mackie,  still  acting  as  her  sole  escort, 
came  up  the  steps  behind  her  and  the  two, 
pausing  at  the  top,  saw  dawn  breaking  over 
the  river.  Like  a  wraith  the  fog  rolled  up 
along  the  water,  the  sky  grew  pale  and  in  the 
far  east  a  light  shone,  keen  and  cold.  The 
streets  were  unusually  quiet ;  it  was  a  little 
before  the  hour  when  a  city  stirs  for  its  first 
breath ;  darkness  lay  deeply  in  the  narrow 
lanes,  and  silence.  On  the  river,  which 
bristled  with  a  forest  of  masts,  some  ships  put 
up  their  sails. 

Suddenly  they  heard  a  woman's  scream  and 
saw  two  figures  struggling  at  the  mouth  of  the 
lane  before  them.  Mackie  started  toward 

260 


Father  and  Daughter 

them,  but  the  woman  broke  away  and  ran 
screaming  to  the  water  side,  almost  brushing 
against  Lady  Clancarty,  and  as  she  did  so 
there  was  a  cry  of  recognition  and  she  fell 
upon  her  neck,  weeping  and  exclaiming.  It 
was  Alice  Lynn.  Sir  Edward  seized  the  man. 

"  You  rogue  !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  you  would 
abuse  a  woman,  would  you  ?  " 

But  the  fellow,  struggling  lustily  for  his 
liberty,  broke  out  with  an  Irish  oath,  and 
Mackie  knew  him. 

"  You  are  Lord  Clancarty 's  man,"  he  said 
in  surprise,  releasing  him  ;  "  what  means  this  ? 
I  am  Sir  Edward  Mackie." 

"  Faix,  there 's  naything  the  matther,"  re- 
plied Denis  sullenly,  rubbing  his  neck  ;  "  I  was 
jist  givin'  thet  dasignin'  hizzy  a  shaking  fer 
bethrayin'  me  Lord  Clancarty  —  curse  her  !  " 

"  You  are  mistaken,  my  man,"  said  Mackie, 
understanding  Denis's  error,  "  I  was  at  Secre- 
tary Vernon's  when  Lord  Spencer  came  in 
for  the  warrant.  Lady  Clancarty  has  just 
come  from  the  Tower  where  she  would  fain 
have  shared  your  master's  imprisonment.  Her 
woman  here,  I  doubt  not,  is  as  faithful." 

"  The  saints  be  praised  !  "  exclaimed  Denis 
piously,  "  I  could  n't  b'lave  ill  of  her  ladyship, 
but  whin  there  's  snake  wurrk  loike  this,  yer 
261 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

honor,  I'm  afther  looking  fer  th'  woman; 
't  was  a  woman,  sir,  that  started  in  these 
dalings  with  th'  ould  serpent  himself.  Me 
lord's  as  good  as  did  now,  —  woe's  me!" 

"  Say  nothing  like  that  to  my  lady,  I  charge 
you,"  said  Mackie  sharply,  "  she  cannot  bear 
it." 

At  the  moment,  Betty  called  Denis,  having 
heard  Alice's  story  and  divining  his  mistake. 

"  I  will  forgive  you,  Denis,"  she  said,  "  since 
it  was  for  my  lord's  sake  ;  but  you  have  nearly 
killed  my  poor  girl  with  fright  and  she  was 
only  seeking  me." 

"  Forgive  me,  your  ladyship,"  he  said  hum- 
bly, "  I  can  but  die  fer  ye,  me  poor  lord  —  " 
he  broke  down,  and  Lady  Clancarty  said  no 
more ;  she,  too,  was  overcome. 

It  did  not  occur  to  Denis  to  apologize  to 
the  victim  of  his  mistaken  vengeance,  but 
when  he  learned  that  Lady  Clancarty  intended 
to  make  another  attempt  to  get  into  the 
Tower,  he  joined  himself  to  her  party,  without 
asking  permission,  and  followed  on,  determined 
to  go  with  her  to  his  master,  ignoring  Alice's 
abhorrence. 

It  was  with  this  strangely  assorted  company 
that  Lady  Clancarty  returned  at  daybreak  to 
her  father's  house.  Not  to  remain,  as  she  told 

262 


Father  and  Daughter 

young  Mackie,  for  never  again  would  she 
dwell  under  the  same  roof  with  the  man  who 
had  betrayed  her  husband. 

The  events  of  the  night,  quite  as  exciting  at 
home  as  abroad,  had  made  the  Earl  of  Sunder- 
land  wakeful,  so  it  happened  that  he  was  out 
of  bed  when  his  daughter  sought  him  in  his 
own  room.  She  found  him,  clad  in  a  great 
shag  gown,  sitting  in  an  armchair  by  the  fire, 
calmly  sipping  a  cup  of  chocolate,  his  bland 
countenance  showing  no  sign  of  perturbation, 
no  matter  what  his  emotions  might  have  been. 
Nor  did  he  express  any  surprise  at  his  daugh- 
ter's appearance  in  her  strange  guise  at  that 
unusual  hour.  He  smiled  upon  her  quite 
benignly  and  waved  her  toward  a  chair. 

"  A  cup  of  chocolate,  my  love,"  he  said, 
"you  look  fatigued." 

Betty  looked  at  him  sadly.  She  knew  only 
too  well  how  hard  it  was  to  touch  his  heart 
under  that  polished  exterior,  if  heart  he  had  at 
all,  and  she  had  often  doubted  it. 

"  You  will  not  sit  down  ? "  he  asked  with 
apparent  surprise ;  "  you  must  be  tired." 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  rest  here,"  she  replied 

sadly,    "  I  cannot  under   the  same  roof  with 

Spencer,"  —  she     would      not    call     him    her 

brother ;  "  I   know    you    have  heard  all,  sir," 

263 


My  Lady  C  lane  arty 

she  added,  watching  him  keenly  —  hoping, 
fearing ;  "  I  have  come  here  to  pray  your 
good  offices  with  the  king  —  to  ask  you  to 
help  your  own  daughter  to  save  her  husband 
from  death !  " 

Lord  Sunderland  held  up  his  hand  depre- 
catingly. 

"  My  love,"  he  said,  "  I  feared  as  much  ! 
Pray  do  not  ask  the  impossible!  You  know  how 
they  hate  me  in  Parliament  because  I  am  sup- 
posed to  have  the  king's  ear.  If  I  meddle  in 
this  they  will  bring  in  a  bill  of  attainder,  —  it  is 
a  favorite  scheme  of  theirs,"  he  added  bitterly. 

"But,  father,  they  will  kill  my  husband," 
cried  Betty,  "  they  will  behead  him  for  high 
treason,  and  he  only  came  here  to  see 
me!" 

Lord  Sunderland  smiled  and  sipped  his  choco- 
late, quite  unmoved. 

"  He  is  a  traitor,  though,  my  dear,"  he 
remarked,  "  and  quite  a  notorious  one.  My 
dear  Betty,  don't  make  a  scene  —  you  know 
nothing  about  the  man." 

"  He  is  my  husband,"  she  cried  with  pas- 
sionate grief,  "  is  that  no  tie  ?  " 

"  I  've  known  several  fine  ladies  who  did  not 
consider  it  one,"  replied  the  earl,  with  a  titter, 
"  notably  my  Lady  Shrewsbury  the  elder." 

264 


Father  and  Daughter 

"  An  infamous  creature,  and  you  know  it !  " 
cried  Betty,  with  something  of  her  old  spirit, 
and  then  she  threw  herself  on  her  knees  beside 
him  ;  "father,  father,"  she  pleaded,  "you  were 
ever  kind  to  me  —  oh,  pity  me,  help  me  to  save 
him  ! " 

Sunderland  tried  to  raise  her ;  he  even  ca- 
ressed her  bowed  head.  He  detested  a  scene, 
and  he  did  not  know  how  to  manage  this 
beautiful  young  creature. 

"  My  child,"  he  said,  "  this  will  pass  ;  you  do 
not  know  him  well  enough  to  feel  his  loss.  The 
marriage  was  my  folly  ;  your  release  —  though 
doubtless  painful  and  cruel  —  will  be  a  blessing 
in  disguise." 

Betty  recoiled  from  his  touch,  her  face  white. 

"  I  love  him,"  she  declared  simply,  "  his 
death  upon  the  block  would  kill  me." 

"  Tut,  tut !  "  replied  her  father  heartlessly  ; 
"  we  young  people  always  die  so  easily." 

"  I  would  rather  die  than  find  those  of  my 
own  blood  so  indifferent  to  my  wretchedness," 
cried  Betty. 

"Perhaps  you  are  indifferent,  too,"  rejoined 
the  earl ;  "  your  mother  lies  ill  now  at  Windsor." 

"  I  am  sorry,"  Betty  said,  "  but  I  must  try 
to  save  my  husband.  Father,  father ! "  she 
clung  to  his  hand  weeping,  "  if  you  ever  loved 
265 


My  Lady  C  lane  arty 

me  —  as  an  infant,  as  a  child,  as  a  young  girl, 
—  do  not  abandon  me  now.  Oh,  help  me  to 
save  him  !  Do  you  not  remember  when  you 
used  to  carry  me  in  your  arms  —  your  little  girl  ? 
Oh,  you  were  kind  to  me,  father,  kinder  than  any 
one  else  !  You  will  not  break  my  heart  now  ? 
My  mother  never  cared  for  me  as  you  did  — 
never  caressed  me  so,  never  brought  me  toys. 
I  loved  you  then,  sir,  and  I  love  you  now. 
Have  you  no  place  in  your  heart  for  me  — 
your  daughter,  your  little  girl,  Elizabeth  ? 
Go  to  the  king  —  you  have  but  to  ask;  they 
say  he  is  merciful,  and  he  trusts  you.  Oh,  save 
Donough ! " 

Lord  Sunderland  sighed.  "  My  dear,"  he 
said,  "  I  would  gladly  help  you,  but  you  ask 
the  impossible.  I  have  no  power  to  save  a 
traitor.  You  know  as  well  as  I  that  even  the 
Habeas  Corpus  Act  is  suspended  on  account 
of  that  rogue  Bernardi  and  his  accomplices; 
you  know  the  story  of  the  Fenwick  attainder. 
How  can  you  ask  me  to  risk  my  head  and  my 
family  reputation  for  this  Irishman  ?  You 
fancy  you  love  him,  Betty,  but  'tis  only 
your  fancy.  There  are  other  men  as  brave," 
he  added,  with  a  smile;  "  you  need  not  be  a 
widow  long." 

Betty  sprang  to  her  feet. 
266 


Father  and  Daughter 

"You,  too,  insult  me  —  and  you  are  my 
father.  Oh,  I  have  no  father,  then,  any  more 
—  the  old,  dear  memories  are  but  dreams  — the 
hand  that  caressed  my  childish  head  can  deal 
me  such  a  blow  as  this  !  Ah,  it  breaks  my 
heart !  Alas,  there  is  no  earthly  hope  !  " 

Lord  Sunderland  poured  out  another  cup  of 
chocolate. 

"  No,"  he  replied  calmly,  "  not  for  Clancarty. 
Really,  my  dear,  I  must  be  firm,  I  cannot  and 
I  will  not  risk  my  reputation,  perhaps  my  life, 
for  —  "  he  shrugged  his  shoulders,  "a  Jacobite 
rogue." 

She  said  nothing,  but  she  gave  him  a  look  so 
eloquent  that  he  shrank  a  little,  with  all  his 
effrontery,  as  she  turned  to  leave  the  room. 
At  the  door  she  paused  and  waved  her  hand  to 
him  with  a  gesture  of  infinite  sadness. 

"Farewell,  father,"  she  said  softly,  "  farewell ! 
I  loved  you  —  I  love  you  still  —  and  I  forgive 
you  —  as  I  pray  to  be  forgiven.  I  go,  your 
daughter  no  longer  —  since  you  disown  Clan- 
carty's  wife.  I  have  no  home,  no  father  — 
only  my  husband  !  Farewell,  farewell !  " 

He  heard  the  low  sound  of  her  weeping  as 
she  went  out,  her  head  bowed  and  her  whole 
beautiful  young  figure  full  of  dejection.     She 
felt  herself  an  outcast. 
267 


CHAPTER   XXX 

MY    LORD    OF    DEVONSHIRE 

LADY  BETTY'S  weakness  passed.  She 
was  too  strong,  too  loving,  and  too 
determined  by  nature,  to  give  way  to 
the  tears  and  sighs  of  a  whining  woman.  So 
stern  was  her  face  and  so  resolute  that  even 
Alice,  with  all  the  old  claims  of  faithful  service 
and  affection,  dared  not  offer  her  any  consola- 
tion save  to  kiss  her  hand  humbly  and  sadly. 

"  Ah,  Alice,"  she  said,  "  I  cannot  talk  to 
you.  When  I  was  happy  I  chattered  like  a 
magpie ;  but  now  that  I  feel  so  much  I  am 
tongue-tied ;  yet  I  understand,  my  girl,  I 
understand." 

"  I  wish  I  could  help  you,"  Alice  said,  in 
tears,  "  I  wish  I  could  do  something  for  you 
both  ! " 

Betty  shook  her  head  sadly.     "  There  is  no 

one  but  the  king.     Ah,  Alice,  in  my  careless 

days  I   have  mocked  his  Dutch  accent  and  his 

Dutch  ways  —  but  now  —  I  go  to  him  as  my 

268 


My  Lord  of  Devonshire 

one  hope  under  heaven  !  How  foolish  I  have 
been,  how  heartless  !  " 

She  would  not  stay  in  Leicester  House ;  she 
only  lingered  long  enough  to  select  her  plainest 
gown  and  a  cloak  and  hood,  and  to  take  such 
jewels  and  money  as  belonged  to  her  individu- 
ally, before  she  and  Alice  set  out,  attended  by 
the  tireless  Sir  Edward.  Not  this  time  to  the 
Tower,  however,  but  to  a  mediator  who  might 
approach  the  king  with  more  likelihood  of 
success  than  any  one ;  the  widow  of  the 
martyred  Lord  Russell.  From  Sir  Edward 
Mackie,  Lady  Russell  learned  that  morning 
the  whole  story,  and  her  heart  was  touched  by 
the  despair  of  the  young  countess,  suffering  as 
she  had  suffered.  Though  of  all  women  Lady 
Russell  was  the  last  one  to  sympathize  with  a 
Jacobite,  yet  her  compassion  moved  her  to  for- 
give her  enemies,  and  from  her  Lady  Clan- 
carty  might  look  for  more  help  than  from  any 
one,  for  she  was  an  honored  and  revered  friend 
of  King  William's. 

So  to  Lady  Russell's  house  in  Bloomsbury 
the  young  Countess  of  Clancarty  directed  her 
steps,  and  it  was  on  the  way  thither  that  they 
met  the  coach  of  my  Lord  of  Devonshire. 
The  great  emblazoned  coach  drawn  by  four 
stout  Flanders  mares,  with  outriders  in  crimson 
269 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

and  gold  lace,  came  clattering  and  rumbling 
along  the  street,  the  men  cursing  and  shouting 
at  the  other  vehicles  that  threatened  to  stop 
his  grace's  way.  Betty  and  her  escort  stood 
back  to  escape  the  mud  from  the  kennel  as  it 
passed. 

The  news  of  Spencer's  despicable  act  and  of 
Clancarty's  arrest  had  been  spread  over  the 
town  by  the  young  men  at  Secretary  Vernon's 
dinner.  When  his  grace  saw  Lady  Clancarty 
afoot  at  that  early  hour,  therefore,  he  ordered 
his  coach  to  stop  and  descended  with  great 
dignity. 

She  did  not  wait  for  him  to  speak,  running 
up  to  him  with  an  eager  face. 

"  My  lord,  my  lord,"  she  cried,  "  I  claim 
your  promise  at  Newmarket.  You  will  help 
me  save  my  Lord  Clancarty." 

Devonshire  gracefully  kissed  her  hand. 

"Dear  Lady  Clancarty,"  he  replied,  "I 
would  hesitate  only  at  John  the  Baptist's  head 
upon  a  charger!  I  shall  keep  my  promise. 
Indeed,  'tis  partly  kept  already,  for  I  have 
just  arranged  with  my  Lords  of  Ormond  and 
Bedford  to  go  with  me  to  Kensington  for  your 
sake.  But,"  the  great  man  paused,  glancing 
at  the  beautiful  face,  "  my  dear  child,  you 
would  be  the  best  suppliant,"  he  added. 
270 


My  Lord  of  Devonshire 

"I  will  go,"  Betty  answered,  "though,  indeed, 
my  lord,  I  do  not  know  how  the  king  will 
receive  me — he  is  so  cold  !  And  my  father  —  " 
her  voice  broke  at  the  word ;  "  Lord  Sunder- 
land  will  not  help  me.  Sir  Edward  has  sug- 
gested Lady  Russell  as  an  intercessor." 

An  expression  of  surprise  passed  over 
Devonshire's  face,  but  it  brightened. 

"  I  know  of  no  one  better,"  he  said  gravely ; 
"  nay,  dear  Lady  Clancarty,  take  heart  of 
grace ;  your  cold  king  is  a  merciful  one." 

Betty  drew  a  sharp  breath. 

"  My  Lord  Clancarty  is  out  of  his  clemency," 
she  said  faintly  ;  "  the  Habeas  Corpus  Act  —  " 
she  could  say  no  more. 

Devonshire  looked  grave  and  his  eyes 
met  Mackie's  significantly,  but  he  took  her 
hand. 

"  My  child,"  he  said  kindly,  "  you  will  go 
in  my  carriage  to  Lady  Russell's  and  then  I 
will  go  to  Kensington ;  we  will  not  surrender 
until  we  are  beaten.  You  are  not  wont  to  be 
faint  hearted." 

"  I  am  changed,"  she  replied ;  "  the  old 
Betty  is  quite  dead,  I  think,  my  lord ;  now 
I  am  only  the  shadow  of  Clancarty ;  as  he 
suffers  so  also  do  I.  If  I  could  but  see 
him !  " 

171 


My  Lady  Clancarty 

"  I  have  sent  to  the  Tower,"  said  the  duke 
reassuringly,  "  and  I  think  I  may  get  a  letter 
for  you.  Would  a  word  be  any  comfort  ?  " 

"  Ah,  my  lord  !  "  she  exclaimed,  and  kissed 
his  hand  impulsively. 

Once  in  the  coach  they  travelled  rapidly ; 
the  duke  talking  of  other  things,  seeing  well 
enough  that  her  strength  was  overtaxed.  He 
was  still  talking  when  the  carriage  turned  from 
Little  Queen  Street  and  stopped  in  Bloomsbury 
Square.  He  led  her  by  the  hand  into  the 
presence  of  Rachel,  Lady  Russell,  his  kins- 
woman by  marriage,  and  Lady  Betty  never 
forgot  the  benevolence  of  the  great  man's  face, 
the  kindly  pressure  of  his  hand,  the  fatherly 
interest  of  his  glance,  as  he  walked  beside  her 
in  the  splendid  dress  he  had  assumed  to  go  to 
court.  Nor  did  she  forget  the  sad,  sweet  dig- 
nity of  the  widow  who  rose  to  meet  them  and 
came  forward  with  such  reserve  of  manner 
until  she  saw  Lady  Betty's  face,  then  she  held 
out  both  hands,  tears  glistening  in  her  eyes ; 
she  scarcely  courtesied  to  the  duke. 

"  My  child  !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  my  poor 
child,  I  too  have  suffered  so.  Ah,  my  lord, 
when  will  the  Traitor's  Gate  close,  save  on  a 
woman's  bleeding  heart  ?  "  and  she  kissed  the 
young  countess  on  brow  and  cheek. 


My  Lord  of  Devonshire 

"  My  husband,"  faltered  Betty,  "  you  know, 
dear  madam,  that  he  is  a  Jacobite? " 

"  I  know  it,"  Lady  Russell  answered  sadly ; 
"  but  he  is  also  a  brave  man  and,  as  I  know, 
the  idol  of  one  woman's  heart.  Alas,  my  lord," 
she  added  gravely  to  Devonshire,  "  do  you 
love  us  well  enough  to  make  amends  for  the 
broken  hearts  —  the  faithful  broken  hearts?" 

His  Grace  of  Devonshire  only  bowed  his 
head  while  the  elder  sufferer  clasped  the  younger 
in  her  arms  and  caressed  her,  speaking  kind 
and  soothing  words,  like  a  mother  to  the 
daughter  of  her  heart.  A  moment  later,  when 
she  glanced  an  inquiry  at  him  over  Betty's 
head,  he  shook  his  gravely,  framing  "  no  "  with 
his  lips,  for  he  had  no  hope,  or  next  to  none. 
So  he  told  young  Mackie  as  they  left  the  house 
together. 

"  Poor  young  creature,"  said  his  grace  gravely, 
"  she  shall  command  my  utmost  endeavors ; 
Spencer  is  a  cold-hearted  rogue  —  and  her 
father  !  "  the  duke  shrugged  his  shoulders ;  "as 
for  Clancarty,  he  's  more  likely  to  be  made  an 
example  than  an  exception." 

"He's  a  brave  man,  your  grace,"  said 
Mackie  generously,  "  and  there  are  many  of 
his  persuasion." 

"  A  poor  philosophy,  my  boy,"  replied  the 
18  273 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

duke ;  "  this  fellow  is  notorious,  besides.  Do 
you  know  his  history  ? " 

"  No,"  said  Mackie  sadly,  "  I  see  only  her 
agony." 

"  It  was  Ormond  who  introduced  him  to 
her  at  Newmarket,  and  I  suspect  that  his 
grace  knew  who  *  Mr.  Trevor'  really  was, 
though  he  does  n't  admit  it.  But  I  believe  she 
divined  it  at  once.  Clancarty  has  a  history," 
his  grace  went  on  ;  "  he  was  bred  a  Protestant, 
but  when  he  went  back  to  Ireland,  in  the  late 
king's  time,  he  fell  in  with  Papist  kinsfolk  and 
it  served  his  turn  at  court  to  be  a  Papist,  so 
my  young  lord  turned  his  coat ;  a  wild  rogue, 
sir,  let  me  tell  you,  yet  this  young  girl  loves 
him !  He  sat  in  the  Celtic  Parliament  at 
King's  Inns,  —  a  very  pretty  recommendation 
to  King  William,  —  he  commanded  a  regiment 
in  King  James's  army  and  was  taken  by  Marl- 
borough,  but  succeeded  in  getting  off.  The 
estates  of  Clancarty  —  they  are  held  to  be 
worth  ten  thousand  a  year  — are  confiscated,  and 
you  know  who  has  the  greater  share  ?  "  added 
the  duke  significantly,  "  my  Lord  Woodstock. 
William  will  not  despoil  his  Dutch  favorites 
for  a  Jacobite." 

Young  Mackie's  face  was  grave. 

"  She  asks  only  for  his  life,"  he  said,  "  and  she 


My  Lord  of  Devonshire 

pleads  so  eloquently  that  I  think  no  man  but 
one  of  stone  can  refuse  her." 

Devonshire  smiled  broadly. 

"  Not  you,  at  least,  my  dear  sir,"  he  replied, 
"if  my  eyes  mistake  not." 

The  young  man  turned  crimson. 

"Your  grace,"  he  said,  "I  do  confess  it; 
but  I  have  seen  her  so  like  an  angel  in  her  de- 
votion, so  forgetful  of  all  but  him,  that,  loving 
her,  I  would  risk  my  life  to  give  him  back  to 
her."- 

The  duke  took  a  pinch  of  snuff  and  stood 
tapping  the  jewelled  lid  of  the  box  thoughtfully. 

"A  very  pretty  sentiment,  Sir  Edward,"  he 
said  genially,  "  and  I  honor  you  for  it.  By 
my  faith,  I  would  not  risk  my  own  heart 
against  her  tears,  or  her  smiles,  either,"  he  added 
smiling, "  though  you  need  not  mention  it.  But 
I  have  small  hope,  sir,  small  hope  ;  the  king 
has  been,  as  we  know,  over  merciful  and  fostered 
rebellion  at  his  very  door.  What  is  it  the 
great  bard  says? 

"  '  What  doth  cherish  weeds  but  gentle  air  ? 

And  what  make  robbers  bold  but  too  much  lenity  ? ' 

And  at  this  time,  after  the  recent  troubles, 
his  majesty  is  not  like  to  be  advised  to  mercy," 
and  his  grace  shook  his  head ;  "  there  is  but 
little  hope!" 


CHAPTER   XXXI 

LADY    RUSSELL 

IT    happened   that    Lady   Russell    advised 
delay    in    the   appeal    to    the    king ;    she 
wished  to  wait  for  the  results  of  the  inter- 
view between  his  majesty  and  the  three  dukes. 
Surely  no  fair  woman  ever  won  greater  media- 
tors as  quickly  as  did  poor  Lady  Betty. 

Lady  Russell  hoped  little,  however,  from 
their  efforts,  though  she  said  not  a  word  of 
this  to  the  distracted  young  wife  but,  instead, 
pointed  out  the  advantages  of  waiting  until 
they  could  appeal  to  William  quite  alone  —  as 
two  women  in  distress  —  and  with  no  connec- 
tion with  any  political  embroglio.  Indeed,  the 
older  woman  knew  the  king  well  enough  to  be 
sure  that  his  heart  might  be  touched  by  a 
woman's  grief,  though  in  affairs  of  state  he 
could  be  adamant.  In  spite  of  Betty's  impa- 
tience and  misery,  they  waited,  and  Devonshire, 
Ormond,  and  Bedford,  two  great  English  peers 
and  the  greatest  Irish  one,  went  up  to  Kensing- 
ton to  save  one  young  woman's  heart  from 
276 


Lady  Russell 

breaking,  caring  little  enough  for  the  Jacobite 
earl  himself. 

It  was  during  this  season  of  delay,  when 
despair  and  hope  were  mingled,  that  one  of 
Devonshire's  gentlemen  brought  a  packet  from 
the  Tower  and  gave  it  to  Lady  Clancarty  with 
much  elaborate  courtesy.  And  she?  She 
fled  with  it  to  her  room  —  Lady  Russell  had 
insisted  upon  keeping  her  under  her  own  roof 
—  and  she  kissed  and  wept  over  it,  before  she 
opened  it,  although  she  knew  that  the  Gov- 
ernor of  the  Tower  had  read  it  all  before  her, 
hard  necessity  ! 

It  contained  a  ring,  a  letter,  and  the  dried 
sprig  of  shamrock,  and  her  eyes  were  half 
blinded  with  tears  as  she  tried  to  read. 

"  My  own  dear  wife,"  it  ran,  "  a  gentleman 
from  my  Lord  of  Devonshire  has  just  been 
with  me  and  has  told  me  of  your  noble  devo- 
tion to  me  in  this  dark  hour,  of  your  efforts  in 
my  behalf.  Dear  heart,  dear  heart,  how  can  I 
write  all  I  feel,  or  tell  my  gratitude  to  the 
great  duke  for  befriending  you  ?  To  tell  the 
truth,  I  have  little  hope  that  my  pardon  can 
be  obtained,  but  I  do  hope  and  pray  to  see  you 
once  more !  Ah,  the  separation,  Betty,  I  did 
not  know  how  hard  it  would  be  to  bear  — 
doubly  hard  now  that  I  know  you  suffer,  too. 
277 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

Bear  up,  brave  heart,  under  the  despair  also ; 
indeed,  I  know  you  will,  for  my  sake,  and 
afterwards  —  you  will  go  to  see  my  mother, 
who  is,  I  know,  broken  hearted  —  and  you 
will  comfort  her  for  me.  Ah,  I  did  not  mean 
to  write  to  you  sadly,  sweetheart,  but  the  loss 
of  you  drives  me  to  distraction.  I  see  you 
constantly  as  you  looked  unconscious  in  my 
arms,  and  it  wrings  my  heart.  Dear  love,  I 
send  you  my  ring  and  our  bit  of  shamrock, 
and  I  will  not  believe  that  I  shall  not  see  you 
again  —  't  would  be  too  cruel. 

"  Dear  heart,  sweet  wife,  —  farewell !  " 
Poor    Lady    Betty,    she  wept    over  it    and 
caressed    it    like    a    living   thing,  for    he  had 
touched  it ;    and  she   hid  the   shamrock   and 
the  ring  in  her  bosom. 

In  this  distracted  state  she  waited  forty- 
eight  hours  longer,  until  she  knew  that  the 
three  dukes  had  obtained  no  definite  promise 
from  the  king  and  that  the  Earl  of  Sunderland, 
who  was  supposed  to  command  his  majesty's 
ear,  was  proclaiming  everywhere  his  approval 
of  Spencer's  deed.  The  cloud  grew  darker 
rather  than  brighter,  and  in  her  agony  she 
would  have  gone  alone  to  Kensington,  for 
Lady  Russell's  caution  seemed  to  her  only 
distracting  delay. 

278 


However,  the  older  woman  only  lingered  to 
take  her  steps  more  surely.  She  drew  up, 
with  Devonshire's  help,  a  formal  petition  to 
the  king,  not  trusting  to  any  verbal  or  inter- 
rupted statement  of  the  case,  and  at  last,  just 
when  the  young  countess  was  reduced  almost 
to  madness,  she  signified  her  readiness  to 
accompany  her  to  court. 

The  king  was  at  Kensington  and  the  two 
set  out,  a  little  before  noon,  in  Lady  Russell's 
carriage,  for  the  palace.  Betty  had  worn  her 
heart  out  with  grief  and  impatience  ;  she  had 
not  slept  and  she  had  scarcely  tasted  food, 
except  under  compulsion,  and  was  a  shadow 
of  herself — but  still  a  beautiful  one.  Lady 
Russell  knew  intuitively  all  that  the  younger 
woman  had  suffered,  and  when  they  were  in 
the  carriage,  she  laid  her  hand  gently  over 
Betty's. 

"  My  dear,"  she  said,  "  I  know  how  cruel 
this  delay  has  seemed,  but,  believe  me,  't  was  for 
the  best.  Our  appeal  must  be  quite  distinct 
from  that  of  the  three  dukes,  and  it  must  be 
only  from  our  hearts  —  as  two  desolate  women." 

Betty  forced  herself  to  speak  with  com- 
posure. 

"  You  know  the  king,  madam,"  she  said, 
"  and  I  do  not  —  or,  at  least,  only  slightly  and, 

279 


My  Lady  Clancarty 

alas,  he  has  ever  seemed  cold  to  me  and  un- 
approachable." 

"  You  truly  do  not  know  him,"  Lady  Russell 
rejoined  gently ;  "  I  do  not  think,  dear  Lady 
Clancarty,  that  a  great  man  is  ever  heartless, 
and  this  man  is  great." 

Betty,  who  looked  at  the  Dutch  king  with 
thoroughly  English  eyes,  raised  her  brows  ex- 
pressively but  said  nothing. 

"  Yes,"  continued  the  older  woman,  looking 
thoughtfully  out  of  the  carriage  window,  "  after 
awhile  the  English  people  will  do  him  justice. 
What  other  man  could  have  held  the  coalition 
of  European  powers  together  against  France? 
or  could  have  raised  England  from  the  deg- 
radation into  which  his  uncles  had  plunged 
her  to  her  present  dignity?" 

Lady  Betty  sighed  wearily;  her  heart  was 
in  the  Tower. 

"  I  know  that  I  have  heard  him  called  the 
arbiter  of  Europe,"  she  replied,  "  but  he  is  so 
very  Dutch,  dear  Lady  Russell,  and  so  stern 
and  cold  in  his  way." 

"Not  cold,"  said  Lady  Russell,  "but  merci- 
ful. His  uncle  James  was  cold  —  look  at 
the  pleading  of  Monmouth,  'twould  have 
moved  a  heart  of  stone  —  and  Charles  was 
often  cruel." 

280 


Lady  Russell 

"  Alas !  King  William  may  turn  as  deaf  an 
ear  to  me,"  cried  the  young  countess,  with  a 
quivering  voice;  "was  ever  fate  more  cruel? 
If  he  is  beheaded  I  shall  die ! " 

Lady  Russell  said  nothing,  but  gave  her  so 
eloquent  a  look  that  Betty  broke  down. 

"  Forgive  me! "  she  cried,  "  oh,  forgive  me  i 
How  selfish  grief  makes  us;  I  forgot  —  " 

"  I  lived,"  said  the  widow  quietly. 

Betty  fell  to  weeping  silently. 

"  'T  would  be  worse  to  live!  "  she  moaned. 

"  It  is  worse,"  retorted  Lady  Russell ;  "grief 
eats  into  the  heart  like  a  canker;  but  I  lived 
for  his  son  !" 

Betty's  head  went  lower  down ;  sobs  shook 
her  from  head  to  foot.  The  older  woman  put 
her  arm  around  her. 

"  I  know,"  she  said,  "  I  know,  but  we  are 
going  to  a  great  man  —  a  great  king.  Dear 
child,  let  us  hope.  You  do  not  know  King 
William.  Melancholy  and  personal  misfortunes 
seem  to  be  wrapped  in  the  birthright  of  the 
Stuarts,  but,  ah,  my  dear,  this  man  is  descended 
also  from  the  house  of  that  great  prince  who 
set  Holland  free.  Mercy  belongs,  of  right,  to 
mighty  princes." 

"  I  love  a  great  man,"  said  Betty,  drying 
her  tears. 

281 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

"  So  do  all  women,"  replied  Lady  Russell ; 
"  it  is  born  in  us ;  we  do  not  love  littleness 
or  weakness.  This  is  a  very  solemn  matter 
and  we  may  not  judge  the  king,  or  judge  for 
him." 

Lady  Clancarty  did  not  reply,  she  could  not ; 
she  was  struggling  to  conquer  her  emotions, 
to  prepare  herself  for  the  coming  interview, 
and  Lady  Russell  took  her  hand  and  held  it 
in  silent  sympathy. 

The  agony  of  that  hour  of  suspense  was 
almost  too  much  to  bear;  her  husband's  life 
hanging  in  the  balance,  at  the  will  of  this  stern, 
silent  man ;  this  man  who  seemed  to  her  —  as 
he  did  to  many  of  the  English,  an  unsympa- 
thetic, phlegmatic  Dutchman  —  an  alien  in  the 
land. 

"Yonder  is  the  palace,"  remarked  Lady 
Russell,  in  a  strangely  quiet  voice,  though  her 
hand  clasped  tightly  over  Betty's. 

They  both  looked  out  on  the  palace  and  the 
green  before  it,  the  barrack  buildings  and  the 
gates,  at  which  a  dozen  or  more  emblazoned 
coaches  waited,  and  they  could  see  the  sun 
flash  on  the  arms  of  the  guards  within  and 
without  the  gates. 

The  girl  drew  her  breath  sharply  ;  she  shook 
from  head  to  foot. 

282 


Lady  Russell 

"Ah,  madam,"  she  cried  wildly,  "if  he  says 

c  »   I  » 

—  *  no   ! 

Lady  Russell  bowed  her  head,  her  lips 
moved ;  her  thoughts  went  back  to  the  dread- 
ful days  of  the  Rye  House  Plot;  she  thought 
of  herself  beside  her  husband  at  his  trial,  of  his 
last  hours  ;  she  seemed  to  see  him  in  the  coach, 
driven  almost  past  his  home  on  his  way  to  die 
in  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields.  She  shuddered,  too, 
but  in  a  moment  her  serene  sadness  returned. 

"  We  must  put  our  trust  in  the  King  of 
kings,"  she  said  gently,  clasping  her  hands  and 
looking  upward. 

Betty  wept  silently;  at  that  moment  every 
hope  seemed  to  die  in  her  heart. 

Meanwhile,  the  coach  rolled  heavily  and 
surely  as  fate  itself  along  the  High  Street  of 
Kensington,  and  at  last  through  the  palace 
gates. 


283 


CHAPTER   XXXII 

THE    KING 

KENSINGTON  PALACE  was  an  of- 
fence in  those  days  to  English  eyes. 
The  burning  of  Whitehall  had  fur- 
nished William  with  the  opportunity  to  es- 
cape, not  only  from  the  air  of  London,  which 
aggravated  his  asthma,  but  also  from  the  crowd 
of  sycophants  who  choked  the  galleries  of  the 
city  palace.  Long  muddy  roads  and  exorbitant 
charges  for  conveyance  made  it  no  easy  matter 
for  the  spendthrift  courtier  and  the  needy 
adventurer  to  torment  the  king  at  Kensington. 
He  was  as  well  pleased  at  the  escape  as  they 
were  disgruntled ;  but  even  here  they  could 
pursue  him  with  annoyances. 

The  malcontents  in  Parliament  had  stripped 
him  of  his  beloved  Dutch  guards,  and  in  their 
stead  the  Life  Guards  saluted  at  his  threshold. 
It  was  through  a  file  of  these  gay  gentlemen 
that  Betty  passed  with  Lady  Russell,  and  they 
stared  not  a  little  at  the  lovely  face  of  the 

284 


The  King 

young  countess,  though  they  received  both 
with  every  token  of  respect  and  courtesy. 
Lady  Russell  was,  indeed,  a  well-known  and 
honored  guest  at  the  palace,  and  they  were 
conducted  by  an  officer  of  the  household  to 
the  anteroom  of  the  king's  presence  chamber, 
there  to  await  his  pleasure. 

The  long  room  was  already  filled  with 
visitors  of  almost  every  degree,  come  upon 
various  errands,  and  Lady  Clancarty  found  it 
no  light  thing  to  face  the  ill-disguised  curiosity 
and  admiration  that  assailed  her  on  all  sides. 

Here  was  a  peer,  in  the  splendid  dress  of 
the  court,  glittering  with  jewels  and  gold  lace, 
curled  and  perfumed  and  ruffled ;  here  a 
plainly  dressed  shrewd  fellow,  with  a  bundle 
of  papers,  a  clerk  from  the  foreign  office,  for 
the  king  was  his  own  minister  of  foreign 
affairs  ;  there  was  a  richly  dressed  magnate  of 
the  city,  with  an  eye  on  the  interests  of  the 
East  India  Company  ;  there  an  eager  applicant 
for  office ;  and  farther  off,  a  despairing  peti- 
tioner who  glanced  in  open  sympathy  at  Lady 
Clancarty. 

A  king's  anteroom !  How  many  secret 
histories  are  written  here ;  what  comedy, 
what  tragedy  ! 

The  low  murmur  of  talk  rose  and  fell ; 
285 


My  Lady  Clan  car ty 

great  ladies,  powdered  and  patched,  swept  their 
furbelows  through  the  crowd  and  swayed  their 
fans,  chattering  lightly  of  a  hundred  things  ; 
great  lords  bowed  and  smiled  and  took  snuff 
and  cursed  the  king,  in  their  hearts,  for  keeping 
them  waiting.  A  pair  of  lovers,  two  young 
things,  were  cooing  in  a  window  recess,  as 
indifferent  to  the  public  as  a  pair  of  turtle- 
doves, and  Betty  looked  at  them  with  dull 
eyes.  The  wait  seemed  to  be  for  hours,  and 
the  heated  atmosphere  and  the  flutter  of  talk 
almost  suffocated  her.  She  looked  up  and 
saw  the  door  open  and  her  father  coming  out 
of  the  king's  closet,  pleased,  smiling,  courteous 
to  all,  greeting  them  right  and  left,  bowing 
here,  extending  a  hand  there.  Betty  felt  that 
he  saw  her,  but  he  averted  his  face  and  she 
stepped  back  into  the  window  recess  near  at 
hand  and  opened  the  sash ;  she  could  not 
breathe.  While  she  stood  there  his  Grace  of 
Devonshire  came  up  and  had  a  few  words 
with  Lady  Russell. 

"  Is  there  any  hope  ?  "  her  ladyship  asked 
sadly,  with  a  meaning  glance  aside  at  the 
young  figure  in  its  plain  black  garb. 

His  grace  shook  his  head. 

"I  see  none,"  he  replied,  very  low;  "there 
has  been  such  a  demand  for  examples ;  the 

286 


The  King 

people  are  so  tired  of  these  conspiracies,  and 
they  are  like  to  class  Clancarty  with  the  worst. 
You  know  the  king,  that  reserve  of  his  betrays 
nothing,  but  I  think  I  never  saw  him  less 
inclined  to  mercy." 

Lady   Russell's  face  became  intensely  grave. 

"  I  shall  do  all  I  can,"  she  said,  "  my  ut- 
most. Poor  young  thing,  her  heart  is 
breaking  ! " 

The  duke  cast  a  look  of  deep  concern 
toward  Lady  Clancarty  and  shook  his  head 
again.  The  next  moment  he  smiled,  as  she 
turned  to  them,  smiled  and  kissed  her  hand  as 
an  open  sign  of  his  sympathy  and  support. 
She  said  nothing ;  she  only  looked  searchingly 
into  his  eyes  and  her  lips  quivered.  Would  it 
be  much  longer? 

The  talk  rose  and  fell ;  some  woman 
laughed,  the  shallow  cackling  laugh  that  comes 
from  the  empty  heart  and  the  empty  head ; 
the  crackling  of  thorns  under  a  pot. 

An  usher  bowed  before  Lady  Russell  and 
she  held  out  her  hand  to  Betty.  The  duke 
smiled  again  reassuringly  ;  and  the  two  women 
walked  slowly  through  the  throng,  passed  in 
at  a  low  doorway,  and  in  a  moment  there  was 
stillness. 

They  had  entered  a  low-ceiled  room,  lighted 
287 


My  Lady  C  lane  arty 

by  one  large  window  ;  it  was  plainly  but  richly 
furnished  and  near  a  table  strewn  with  papers 
stood  a  small,  thin  man.  He  was  dressed  in 
black  velvet,  with  a  ruffled  cravat  of  Mechlin 
and  a  star  on  his  breast ;  he  wore  a  great  curled 
periwig.  Insignificant  in  size  but  with  a  won- 
derful majesty  of  bearing  ;  the  king  of  three 
kingdoms  and  the  stadt-holder  of  Hollander 
—  William  of  Orange. 

As  they  entered  he  turned  and  stood  look- 
ing at  them.  His  complexion  was  a  clear,  pale 
olive  ;  his  eagle  nose  and  brilliant  eyes  imme- 
diately commanding  attention,  with  something, 
too,  in  the  cold  majesty  of  his  mien  and  the 
habitual  sadness  of  his  expression.  His  face, 
narrow  at  the  chin,  expanded  widely  at  the 
brows,  and  his  glance  was  singularly  luminous. 
His  eyes  a  clear  hazel,  with  a  depth  to  them 
like  the  clear  brown  of  some  mountain  pool 
undisturbed  by  any  ripple  upon  the  surface, 
deep  and  transparent ;  his  thin  figure  was 
inclined  to  stoop,  and  he  had  a  racking  cough, 
left  behind  by  smallpox. 

He  greeted  Lady  Russell  and  the  young 
countess  with  perfect  courtesy,  but  his  reserve 
remained  as  icy  as  ever,  and  like  a  cloak  about 
him ;  warm-hearted  Betty  shivered,  stricken 
silent. 

288 


The  King 

"  Sire,  we  come  to  you  as  humble  suppli- 
ants," Lady  Russell  said,  "  to  pray  you  to 
graciously  receive  our  petition.  I  need  not 
tell  your  majesty  that  this  is  Lord  Sunderland's 
daughter,  the  unhappy  wife  of  the  Earl  of 
Clancarty." 

"  My  Lords  of  Devonshire  and  Ormond 
have  already  told  me,"  the  king  said,  coughing 
a  little  as  he  cast  a  thoughtful  look  at  the  young 
countess ;  "  I  am  sorry,"  he  added,  "  that  it 
is  so." 

"  Ah,  sire,  have  mercy  on  us  both,"  mur- 
mured Lady  Betty,  finding  her  tongue  at  last ; 
"  to  you  belongs  the  glory  of  mercy.  Spare 
him,  your  majesty,  he  came  here  only  to  see 
me  —  to  see  his  wife." 

The  king  did  not  reply,  but  took  the  petition 
from  Lady  Russell  and  laid  it  on  the  table. 

"  Let  me  plead  for  her,  sire,"  said  the  widow 
gently,  "  I  need  not  remind  your  majesty  that 
I  have  suffered  as  she  is  suffering.  I  knelt  to 
plead  for  life  to  King  Charles,  as  she  kneels 
now  to  King  William,  and  I  knelt  in  vain. 
They  carried  my  husband  —  almost  past  his 
own  home  —  to  his  death  and  I  —  ah,  my 
king,  I  lived !  That  is  the  terror  of  it,  and 
the  cruelty ;  you  cannot  divine  it,  —  't  is 
martyrdom !  "  the  widow's  voice  was  shaken 
19  289 


My  Lady  C  lane  arty 

by  the  agony  of  recollection  and  for  the  mo- 
ment she  could  say  no  more.  "  I  pray  you 
humbly,  if  I  have  ever  served  your  majesty  or 
deserved  well  at  your  hands,  to  consider  our 
petition.  We  ask  but  life  —  all  else  we  leave 
in  your  hands.  Let  us  remind  you,  sire,  that 
of  all  the  qualities  that  most  adorn  your  gra- 
cious character  that  of  mercy  has  ever  shone 
conspicuous,  has  won  the  hearts  of  your 
people  —  " 

William  held  up  his  hand  with  a  bitter  smile. 

"  Say  no  more,  madam,"  he  interrupted  iron- 
ically ;  "  't  is  not  often  that  I  am  reminded  of 
my  conquest  of  the  hearts  of  the  English 
people  ! " 

Lady  Betty  threw  herself  on  her  knees  before 
him. 

"Sire,"  she  cried,  "I  pray  for  mercy  —  for 
life  !  Ah,  think,  your  majesty,  the  day  must 
come  when  you,  too,  will  look  for  mercy — and 
I  am  sure  your  pity  for  us  now  will  comfort 
you  then.  I  only  ask  my  husband's  life  — 
his  life !  " 

Her  voice  broke  pitifully;  how  little  she 
could  say  !  Agony  ties  the  tongue  ;  she  looked 
up  through  her  tears  and  wrung  her  hands 
together  with  a  gesture  of  despair,  an  appeal 
more  eloquent  than  words. 
290 


The  King 

"  O  gracious  sovereign,"  she  murmured 
faintly,  "  life  —  life  !  That  is  my  cry  to  you  — 
only  spare  him  to  me." 

A  cough  racked  the  king,  and  for  the  mo- 
ment he  was  silent.  Lady  Russell  trembled 
for  the  effect  of  the  appeal.  He  raised  the 
countess  kindly. 

"My  child,"  he  said,  "these  matters  are 
not  always  as  much  at  the  king's  disposal  as 
they  seem  ;  you  forget  my  parliament ;  "  a  dry 
smile  flickered  across  his  face ;  "  I  can  make 
you  no  unconditional  promise  until  I  have 
considered  your  petition,  and  those  of  others 
in  this  matter.  Your  husband  has  been  a  con- 
spicuous offender,  but  if  I  can  save  him  —  " 
he  broke  off,  closing  his  lips  tightly,  his  face 
singularly  stern  and  sad. 

Betty  thought  he  had  yielded  and  began  to 
pour  out  her  thanks  weeping,  but  the  king 
held  up  his  hand  coldly. 

"  I  can  make  no  unconditional  promise,"  he 
repeated  dryly,  "  reserve  your  thanks  until 
there  is  a  certainty  — but,"  he  added,  after  a 
moment's  hesitation,  "  think  not  hardly  here- 
after of  your  Dutch  king." 

Betty  turned  crimson  and  William  gave  Lady 
Russell  a  significant  glance. 

"  Your  husband  is  an  old  offender,  Lady 
291 


My  Lady  Clan  car  ty 

Clancarty,"  he  added,  with  his  rasping  little 
cough ;  "  he  not  only  fought  in  Ireland  but  he 
sat  in  that  parliament  at  King's  Inns,  and  there 
are  others  who  might  base  a  claim  for  indem- 
nity upon  any  clemency  that  he  received. 
But  rest  assured,"  he  continued,  "  that  the 
king  has  as  much  feeling  as  any  other  man  — 
and  heavier  sorrows." 

He  gently  and  kindly  dismissed  them,  but 
Betty  having  gone  half  way  across  the  room 
ran  back,  as  impulsive  as  any  child,  and 
kneeling  on  one  knee  kissed  his  hand,  and 
then  ran  out  weeping,  as  unmindful  of  etiquette 
as  a  country  lass. 

On  the  stairs  she  looked  up  through  her 
tears  at  Lady  Russell. 

"  I  understand  you  now,"  she  said,  deeply 
moved ;  "  I  felt  his  greatness  —  he  is  a  king  ! 
But,  oh,  will  he  be  merciful  ?  will  he  spare 
my  poor  husband  ?  " 

Lady  Russell  could  not  answer;  she  turned 
her  face  aside.  She  felt  that  the  king  had 
given  them  so  little  hope,  that  his  answer  had 
been  enigmatical.  She  took  Betty's  hand  again, 
but  neither  of  them  could  speak  ;  and  in  silence 
they  went  home  to  the  house  in  Bloomsbury. 


292 


CHAPTER   XXXIII 

DONOUGH ! 

iHE  night  of  suspense  —  longer  than 
a  year  of  happiness  —  wore  to  an  end, 
because  all  things  end.  At  noon 
Lady  Betty  stood  in  Lady  Russell's  drawing- 
room,  leaning  against  the  window  and  looking 
out,  so  wan  and  wasted  that  her  hostess  started 
at  the  sight  of  her  as  she  entered.  The  two 
women  greeted  each  other  with  an  affection 
born  of  sympathy,  in  spite  of  their  brief 
acquaintance,  and  as  they  stood  there  with 
clasped  hands,  they  heard  the  clatter  of  hoofs 
in  the  street  below,  a  noise  at  the  door,  steps 
on  the  stair. 

Betty  uttered  a  cry  and  stood  rigid ;  it  had 
come,  good  or  ill !  The  door  was  flung  open 
and  Devonshire's  messenger,  plashed  with  mire 
from  hard  riding,  bowed  at  the  threshold,  hold- 
ing up  a  letter. 

"  From  his  grace  to  Lady  Russell,"  he  said. 

Lady  Russell  tore  it  open  with  shaking 
hands  but  Betty  did  not  stir ;  she  stood  like 
293 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

a  statue ;  she  thought  her  heart  had  stopped 
beating.  The  older  woman  clasped  the  paper 
to  her  bosom,  murmuring  a  thanksgiving. 

"  He  is  saved  !  "  she  cried  joyfully,  holding 
out  the  letter  to  Lady  Clancarty,  "  your  hus- 
band is  saved !  The  king  grants  his  life,  but 
exiles  him." 

Lady  Betty  swayed  and  would  have  fallen 
but  for  her  friend.  The  good  woman  caught 
her  in  her  arms. 

"  That  merciful  king !  "  cried  Lady  Russell, 
tears  streaming  down  her  face ;  "  ah,  if  I  had 
been  so  blessed  !  " 

Betty  flung  her  arms  around  her  neck  and 
kissed  her. 

"  I  must  go  to  the  Tower ! "  she  cried 
eagerly,  after  a  moment,  "  I  may  go  now." 

"  Nay,  madam,"  interposed  the  duke's  mes- 
senger respectfully,  "  his  grace  did  especially 
charge  me  to  beg  you  to  remain  here  until  he 
came  for  you." 

"  Ay,"  said  Lady  Russell,  glancing  at  the 
letter,  "  he  speaks  of  it  here." 

A  shade  of  deep  disappointment  crossed  the 
youthful  face,  but  she  bowed  her  head. 

"  I  shall  await  the  duke's  pleasure,"  she  said. 

After  the  messenger  withdrew,  Lady  Russell 
touched  her  friend's  frock  playfully. 
294 


Donough  ! 

"My  dear,"  she  remarked,  "you  will  not 
go  to  welcome  him  back  to  the  world  in  this 
sombre  garb  ?  " 

Betty  glanced  down  dolefully. 

"  I  brought  no  other,"  she  replied. 

Lady  Russell  smiled  and  sent  for  Alice. 

"  My  child,"  she  said,  "  I  heard  this  morn- 
ing that  there  was  strong  hope  —  yet  I  dared 
not  tell  you,  for  fear  of  disappointment.  But 
I  sent  Alice  for  a  gayer  gown  than  this  for  your 
lover." 

Betty  blushed  like  a  rose,  for  in  walked 
Alice,  carrying  in  her  arms  the  flowered  bro- 
cade that  her  mistress  had  worn  at  Newmarket, 
and  Alice  was  all  smiles  and  tears.  Nothing 
would  do  but  that  Lady  Russell  and  Alice 
must  array  her  as  for  a  festival. 

"  For  the  Tower  ! "  protested  Betty,  be- 
tween tears  and  laughter,  trembling  and  listen- 
ing for  a  sound. 

"  For  your  husband,"  whispered  Lady  Rus- 
sell, kissing  her  cheek,  "  the  king  has  granted 
you  a  pension  sufficient  for  you  on  the  Conti- 
nent—  alas,  that  you  must  go." 

"Ah,  but  with  him,"  said  Lady  Betty  smil- 
ing divinely. 

It  was  while  they  talked  that  Alice  came  by 
chance  upon  Denis  on  the  staircase  ;  Denis  was 
295 


My  Lady  Clancarty 

smiling  like  a  cherub.  He  stood  before  her 
awkwardly. 

"  Faix,"  he  said,  "  I  was  afther  thinking  ye 
a  sneak,  my  darlint,  but,  shure,  I  misjudged 
ye,"  he  paused,  shuffling  his  feet  with  un- 
familiar shyness  in  his  aspect,  while  Alice  eyed 
him  with  prim  disapproval. 

"  My  darlint,"  he  said,  "  I  'm  afther  makin' 
some  aminds  fer  th*  batin' ;  will  —  will  ye  be 
Mrs.  Dinis  now?  " 

But  Alice  withered  him  with  a  look. 

"  There  's  no  need  of  ill  will,  my  darlint," 
he  continued  nervously ;  "  faix,  I  know  a  man 
that  always  bates  his  wife  whin  his  affection 
overcomes  him." 

"  You  don't  know  me !  "  exclaimed  Alice 
indignantly,  red  as  a  poppy. 

Denis,  not  a  whit  abashed,  would  have 
caught  her  hand. 

"  There  's  nathing  in  th'  wurrld  to  kape  us 
from  gittin'  acquainted,  me  love,"  he  said 
gallantly. 

"  Deliver  me  from  a  bloody  Papist ! "  said 
Alice  piously,  escaping  up  the  stair  and  leaving 
Denis  grinning  openly  in  his  relief,  for  he  had 
contemplated  a  noble  sacrifice  of  his  own 
feelings. 

Meanwhile  Lady  Russell  and  the  countess 
296 


Donough  I 

had  descended  to  the  drawing-room  again  to 
await  my  Lord  of  Devonshire's  arrival.  Like 
a  rose,  Betty  had  bloomed  out  with  joy,  radiant 
in  her  beautiful  gown,  trembling  and  impatient. 
She  paced  the  floor,  Lady  Russell  watching  her. 

"  Ah,"  she  said,  "  why  can  I  not  go  at  once 
to  the  Tower  ?  'T  is  so  hard  to  wait !  " 

"  The  duke  would  go  with  you,"  Lady  Rus- 
sell replied  quietly,  "  and  it  is  best  so." 

"He  has  been  so  good  to  me  —  to  us!" 
Betty  murmured,  a  break  in  her  voice. 

She  was  thinking  of  her  father's  averted  face, 
her  brother's  cruelty,  her  tittering,  painted, 
heartless  mother.  "  He  is  kinder  than  my 
own  blood,"  she  said,  "  he  and  the  king." 

"  He  remembered  even  the  pension,"  Lady 
Russell  assented,  "  that  good  king  !  " 

But  Lady  Betty  scarcely  heard  her ;  she 
strained  her  ears  to  catch  far  other  sounds. 
The  rumble  of  a  heavy  coach,  the  closing  of  a 
door,  steps  in  the  hall.  She  fled  to  the  top  of 
the  staircase,  like  a  startled  bird,  and  looked 
down ;  through  a  window  beside  her  the  sun 
shone  in.  There  were  many  below,  my  Lord 
of  Devonshire,  a  stately  figure,  the  Duke  of 
Ormond,  young  Sir  Edward  Mackie,  half  a 
dozen  gentlemen.  But  she  did  not  see  them  ; 
what  were  they  to  her  ? 
297 


My  Lady  C lane  arty 

She  saw  a  tall  figure,  a  handsome,  eager  face, 
as  Clancarty  sprang  up  the  stairs. 

Lady  Betty  held  out  her  arms,  the  sun 
shining  in  her  face. 

"  Donough  !  "  she  cried,  "  my  own  true 
love ! " 


THE    END 


298 


LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY'S 

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An  uncommonly  vivid  and  well  sustained  story  of  pioneer  days  in  Michigan.  —  New  York  Globe. 

28.  CURLY.     A  /Tale  of  the  Arizona  Desert      By  ROGER 

POCOCK. 

The  best  cowboy  story  since  "The  Virginian."  —  The  Outlook. 

29.  JUSTIN    WINGATE,    Ranchman.      By  JOHN   H. 
WHITSON. 

An  accurate  and  adequate  picture  of  the  Western  life  of  the  day.  —  New  York  Sun. 


POPULAR  EDITIONS  OF  RECENT  FICTION 


30.  A   KNOT   OF  BLUE.       By   WILLIAM   R.    A.  WILSON. 

A  strong,  fanciful  weaving  together  'of  incidents  of  adventure,  intrigue,  and  gallantry.  —  New 
York  World. 

31.  THE  HEAD  OF  A  HUNDRED.      By   MAUD  WILDER 
GOODWIN. 

Charming  for  its  sweetness  and  truth.  —  New  York  Time*. 

32.  THE  WEIRD  PICTURE.     By  JOHN  R.  CARLING. 

Leads  the  reader  through  a  maze  of  mystery  and  adventure.  —  Brooklyn  Eagle. 

33.  A  PRINCE  OF  LOVERS.     By  SIR  WILLIAM  MAGNAY. 

A  remarkable  story  of  love,  adventure,  and  intrigue.  —  Boston  Transcript. 

34.  SWEET  PEGGY.     By  LINNIE  SARAH  HARRIS.     . 

A  jolly,  wholesome  love  story  in  the  good  old-fashioned  manner.  —  Detroit  Free  Prett. 

35.  JOURNEYS   WITH    DUMAS.      The   Speronara.      By 
ALEXANDRE   DUMAS.     Translated  by  KATHARINE  PRESCOTT 

WORMELEY. 

These  pages  simply  teem  with  entertainment.  —  New  York  Evening  Sun. 

36.  SIR  CHRISTOPHER.     By  MAUD  WILDER  GOODWIN. 

One  of  the  strongest  and  most  wholesome  romances  ever  brought  forth  from  Maryland  and 
Virginia.  —  Cleveland  World. 

37.  FILE  No.  113.     By   EMILE   GABORIAU.      Translated   by 
GEORGE  BURNHAM  IVES. 

A  masterpiece  of  its  kind,  one  of  the  best  detective  stories  ever  written.  —  New  York  Tribune. 

38.  MY  LADY  CLANCARTY.     By  MARY  IMLAY  TAYLOR. 

A  wholesome,  vigorous,  stirring,  refreshing  tale.  —  Chicago  Record-Herald. 

39.  WHERE   (THE    TIDE    COMES    IN.      By  LUCY  M. 
THRUSTON. 

A  novel  of  dramatic  force,  with  a  good  plot  —  New  York  Time*. 


LITTLE,  BROWN,  &  CO.,  Publishers,  BOSTON 


UC  SOUTHERN 


A     000130546     5 


